SHE WAS MAD
Winter nestled baby-blue blanket
earth into bright sparkles
of infinity-
White cotton snow
brimming over heart,
warmed black lamppost glow.
Snowflakes fell flint and flicker
amber flamed air weaving,
whimsical whims
of purple rose dreams,
he seemed to frequent often.
He did,
he had her porcelain heart
flushed.
Rosy cheek- blushed,
eyes silver frost night,
resting on ever-green pine.
She was captivated.
Quite taken,
by the cranberry mistletoe sky.
Time ticks, twilight slips,
escapes in secret between
daylight and darkness.
Civil, nautical, astronomical dusk
strips down the darkest moment
just before dawn-
Bare and brave,
she stowed and stuffed
gloomy grey thoughts
down blue jean pockets
full of old memories,
bearing no fruit-
He nestled into dark night snug
like hands holding together tight-
He walked and walked,
down milky white paths
in Central Park Heights.
His head and feet,
facing solid ground.
Boot straps flap,
Toe-tap, crack-
Crackle. Crunch. Cracks,
ice-cracked snow broken
down by the baby pink
Camilla tree.
It was there,
he saw her rainbow reflection
thrown toward
the distant edge of night.
Her muse,
fully casted frosted-blue
crescent light.
A slice of darkness
bemoaned her mind.
She split in half yet,
held him high.
He fell quite deep
in phantom mist
so much so,
he couldn't resist-
He caught her breath
in Persian silk; teal blue,
burgundy patterns, bold,
brilliant pomegranate stitch.
Yellow ecstasy silken-spun,
twirling, swirling
amber history, she
was a tangled mystery-
She. was. something.
Sweet mouthed under lilac eyes.
A standing starry stunner,
struck midnight's hunger!
Lingering love,
hung crisp cold air.
Standing still,
she didn't care.
Her presence, was powerful,
potent and bold.
Her mind felt desperate,
and no longer could hold.
She was mad-
MAD I tell you!
MAD!
She was mad.
Madly, in love.
- Tiny Poet, She Was Mad, 2016
earth into bright sparkles
of infinity-
White cotton snow
brimming over heart,
warmed black lamppost glow.
Snowflakes fell flint and flicker
amber flamed air weaving,
whimsical whims
of purple rose dreams,
he seemed to frequent often.
He did,
he had her porcelain heart
flushed.
Rosy cheek- blushed,
eyes silver frost night,
resting on ever-green pine.
She was captivated.
Quite taken,
by the cranberry mistletoe sky.
Time ticks, twilight slips,
escapes in secret between
daylight and darkness.
Civil, nautical, astronomical dusk
strips down the darkest moment
just before dawn-
Bare and brave,
she stowed and stuffed
gloomy grey thoughts
down blue jean pockets
full of old memories,
bearing no fruit-
He nestled into dark night snug
like hands holding together tight-
He walked and walked,
down milky white paths
in Central Park Heights.
His head and feet,
facing solid ground.
Boot straps flap,
Toe-tap, crack-
Crackle. Crunch. Cracks,
ice-cracked snow broken
down by the baby pink
Camilla tree.
It was there,
he saw her rainbow reflection
thrown toward
the distant edge of night.
Her muse,
fully casted frosted-blue
crescent light.
A slice of darkness
bemoaned her mind.
She split in half yet,
held him high.
He fell quite deep
in phantom mist
so much so,
he couldn't resist-
He caught her breath
in Persian silk; teal blue,
burgundy patterns, bold,
brilliant pomegranate stitch.
Yellow ecstasy silken-spun,
twirling, swirling
amber history, she
was a tangled mystery-
She. was. something.
Sweet mouthed under lilac eyes.
A standing starry stunner,
struck midnight's hunger!
Lingering love,
hung crisp cold air.
Standing still,
she didn't care.
Her presence, was powerful,
potent and bold.
Her mind felt desperate,
and no longer could hold.
She was mad-
MAD I tell you!
MAD!
She was mad.
Madly, in love.
- Tiny Poet, She Was Mad, 2016