Jemfyr

You remind me of this day
Bluish-green feelings along the way
At first I remember and the smile eases the sun’s ray
But I told you last, I didn’t love you anyway

Seagulls calling on misty breeze lane
Daylight becomes nightfall in plain clothing shame
Sapphire waves claim loyalty to the gentleman caller game
Even a tippy-toe juvy knows the rules of the lion’s mane

You remind me of this day
Butterscotch afternoons were hazy with malaise
I can still recall the glance from the second store yesterday
Wrought-iron visual, callous facial display

Ah, the stars are twinkling and winking just for me, I say
I play fool to their wicked heart-warming disarray
I carved your name in soft petals, metal gray
But I told you first, I’d love you always

Jemfyr

As she walked down the corridor, fingertip trailing circles passing each door. “Svelte silouette” snickers the whimiscal wallpaper decor`.  Her gait changed just before the end of the unguided tour, pausing slowly at the opened, naked red door.

A slight tilt of the head, eyes gazing left and to right, as if traffic were passing thru her soul, caution the yellow light.  Stealth Prada heel beckons the next move, ahh the difference between corporate carpet and tile groove.  Such emotion, so little, so huge.

Photos of faces from unfamiliar places, neither here nor there.  Glancing self-assured through the passing flair.  I imagined the woman in black silk did her own hair.  I toyed with that notion as if I really cared.

Whispers of “Did she come alone?” was the page in chapter.  Saunters to the bar, noting the importance of jagged ice as a point of reference only after.  Was she nervous?  Came not a chortle nor laughter.

Drinking first sip, eyes lifted as if taking a head count would matter, smiling softly, barely a laugh, imagining the room in prisms of shatter.  At a muted, yet agreeable point, take solace in a Chintz chair, collectively remembering why I am justifiably unmedicated here.  Makes a mental note that the buffet was quite bare, accepting if it were there.

Tick tock, tick tock, time flies when you are having fun.  Shutter at making that mindless, simple pun.  Slowing gasps in, exhales a small whine, oh people, this party, sigh sigh sigh.

From the photographs dusted with grace, a mutual glance is received; how I did notice they were framed in 5 x 8  brass leaves.

The unmentionable  ’party was delightful’ was said by not heard.  Yet fleeting thoughts of  ‘thank you for coming’ and kissing the temple was the cure. 

Stealth Prada heel beckons the curtain call, walks the runway, catwalk and all.  The corridor welcomes me with opened arms, my soul enchanted, as such I am charmed

Has the weather cooled?… pulling up my houndstooth collar, questioning with each step. 

How I do prefer the evening and the secrets kept. *a pink petal drops…*

Jemfyr ©

I was reading, Betsy Ross, wondering how the colors of red, white and blue were threaded through nimble fingers…the canvas of color, the history she made.

Was I right in perhaps she performed tailoring tasks for George Washington too? …who at the early age of six, he cut that beautiful, young English cherry tree …his father was not happy, the history he made.

Blew my mind when I read about flag desecration …the flames they burn …the heat, history hurt, walking on the graves…stop the history blaze!

Jemfyr