When The Planets Are Aligned Poem by Uriah Hamilton

If I become depressed
And fail to see you
In your floral dress,
Then my weekend will be
Funeral-parlor sad,
Living a life of Ash Wednesdays alone.

I’ll call you on the telephone,
And tell you that your feminine voice
Is the entire panacea that I need
When my world is vacant parking lots
Infiltrated by degradation and thorny weeds.

If you allow me to hold your hand,
I know that you will understand
My overwhelming desire
To make you the object of intense devotion.

Please, don’t walk away and trample these emotions;
We may not meet again for several lonely lifetimes
Until the planets are aligned mystically perfect.