Amy Marie

When Imagination imagines –
Her frame she drapes in red.
Fine white pearls her neck circle
Like a ring – it's said.
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Bliss is the one on a swing
Who feels her years breeze by.
She creates the sound of a bell
And doesn't even try.
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Seventeen today arrived –
In my night-bed with life revived.
She had put Sixteen to rest –
Last night after passing Energy's test.
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Age was handcuffed – but claimed to be free –
Down the isle proceeding.
Like fireworks – glittered her dress –
While Rage at her gazed for a while.
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A soft sun rose inside my glee –
Promising dawn and ecstacy –
Only because he sang my song.
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A cat perched on the Railing –
To enamor my every moment –
Was all it took – to make my way –
Out of Jumping's 'jailing.'
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I know a sunny swing –
Which in the dawn light rocks me –
Singing dreams my yard drench –
Oh Enamoring Flight!
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Dreaming rides – Dreaming rides!
You have yet shown me lives –
Of Roads, Music, and Chides –
To what loathes me. No hives –
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Childhood
Paints her dying lips in cherry red
To conceal herself – Why?
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Six months to live have I now –
In my fading white dress –
Of Innocence.
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My black boots clap against
The well-tanned tile: Applauding
As I enter the room of the mind.
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You tangle and toss my thoughts -
Like yarn - in the moon-streaked night.
Never would you dare let me
Turn off that mind of mine.
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I am sick and dying –
In the comfort of my bedroom.
My black hair drapes down like aging curtains – dull and thinning.
As Destiny steals the color from my lips – Age uses it as a treat for her
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Independence - My hand tapped -
Once beneath Moon Rise -
Smiled she - Conformity gone -
Twice before my eyes.
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Her scent escapes her –
Against her own free will –
As it swirls around her body
Not quite letting go.
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Shimmering snow around me falls -
With Creativity -
We hide beneath branches bare -
What Joy joins us there!
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Beside Imagination say Childhood
As the sun bowed down to Freedom's Moon.
They knew they could - and they would -
Endure the night of June.
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You are pure and finite -
An inch away from my Lovesick grasp.
Joy - herself - holds your young silk of hands
Obliviously oblivious to my hazel gaze.
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