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The Symmetry Man During a spring's cool morning at low tide In the first quarter of a waning moon, your Symmetry man standing by your side his low voice humming a wonderful tune. He a subscriber to street musicians harvesting all rumors from passers by, A soul healer with many suspicions looking for joy in each teardrop you cry. Joy filling twenty quires of paper starting the migration of singing birds, In tree tops with such sweet songs that rape her sung in a solarium of rhyming words, performing for her everytime she cried singing with rhythm and blue notes so high, setting off alarm bells while some birds hide in distant woods chirping a lullaby. Each year comes an astral sign from the sun while Venus creates love's great illusion, touching her soulful love nest raining fun and guiding him out of his confusion, dancing with him with such warm affection each whisper calling like a lonely loon, like a band of minstrels with connection singing love songs by late afternoon. With the descent of day light soon falling supplementing a small passage of time, sleep walking slowly in stride and calling for his last sauntering slumbering climb, quickly searching for your long lost treasure drawn to your eyes and aromatic spice, passing through each mesh finding pleasure not once, but reaching out, finding it twice. |
This Poem was Critiqued By: arnie s WACHMAN On Date: 2005-12-31 20:47:07
Critiquer Rating During Critique: 9.71875
Midnight is fast approaching and I realize I cannot do any justice, so let me just leave it at that.
And I am tired and I have just met the man. The Symmetry Man!