Precious Poems

Delicate lyrical lines
float on tippy-toes
satin ballet shoes
across an empty page.
Spoken in feathery-
light hushed tones
Skin easily bruised
like a ripe peach
against a fingernail.
Presence caresses
nuances so subtle,
it does not ripple.

Here comes a careless
stamp that throttles
the wordscape
with empty threats
and balled fists.
Here comes the voice
thunder awake
the sleeping poet
pointing to this
and that. Look
purple flowers
creeping vine
around a wooden pole.
Do something with that.
Look a clock outside
is never on time. Write
about that. Precious
muted standing amid
Times Square’s cacophony .


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