The innocence of your staid stance
Vexes poets; for a glance
Is all it takes to stir the brakes
Cleaving to thought’s unbounded lakes
Darling, silk silence can beguile
With nothing more than hint of smile
And I’m a beggar plagued by yen
Of what is hidden in a pen
...and did you know your tinctured flow
Rends where only a word can go?
Yet there you lie and here am I
Taunted by your impassive ply
Tidal-vein of hurricane
Paradigm of parting’s pain
Doggerel of dying dream
Sealed in soulful ink-requiem
Darling, do you sense the storm
Cradled in your guile-less form?
Pen; oh, plain, persuasive gate
Where ten-thousand poems wait
© Janet Martin
