Velvet Dreams Poem by Elliott Rosenberg

Bawdy twaddlers gamboling down an articulate road,
Find themselves lost in a vineyard,
Construing dreams with an enologist and a toad.

They hem and haw undisciplined gawking at thin air,
Whilst they brave momentum to graft,
Aberrant wisdom onto a scion tree.

The piano plays announcing spring,
Shuddering a dismal winter,
Reticent skies eloquently cleave,
to a mottled calcareous terroir.

Asks the vintner to his amphibian friend,
Cauterized in a marly dream,
Why has moral turpitude shrouded your gentle gaiety?
Have you not the epaulettes of a plebeian royal prince?

Silence befell,
One could feel the tremor of the hailing grapes,
One could hear the gallops of partisan angels fuming the morning dew.

Still there was no answer,
Only a dusky rabble impinging forward,
Versant at times,
It's swell cries loud in adulation.

Free me of these binding scars,
So that liberty may bleed from my cider heart,
to be a nuisance in a gangly world,
Where our youth redound upon subversiveness.

As I succumb to a peaceful sleep,
Slumbered over a velvet barrow,
I await a princely sommelier to decant a fermented tear,
And seethe my dormant soul.