Has no season, the heart chooses its moment to bloom
Knows no reason, begs for – a piece of your pardon.
Excuse the humble self, on the edge of some treason
On top of the cliff – with little care or bit of abandon.
The heart chooses its moment to bloom. Or, so people say / http://www.montynuss.com
Hears strange music, some inner commotion
Feet dance, in heightened grace and passion.
An inane soul bound, pegged, to some silly notion
The heart beats to a love – that’ll find its way soon. 😉
The heart follows the beat of a music only it can hear/ http://www.facebook.com
* The idea for this ho-hum piece must have come from a previous post. This is the last of the series of poems written in one sitting, sometime in March – after going over T.S. Eliot’s poem, in this post. Hey, it’s undeniably summer over here, folks. I’m two shades darker already. 😉 Have fun, cheerio!
35andupcynicismonhold 