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.
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 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!