Good Thing

Time was that it took a little bit of sanity away everytime I kissed you.

Your mother didn’t know I had regressed into a teenager again but she knew it was about the right of all things, not her done -felt ideas about right and wrong.

I be alone here at the side of your easel as you paint me coloured lilacs and I dream of your antique wares upon my fearly loved heart,  the lilly of the valley comes strewn with many values upon which I bear comforting eyeless gaze.

I wonder what will come from these moments of gladheur and feel freely for their periodic times.

It is so not to be assuaged that you are here when I talk to you.

Be good and understand it is not here that I be but alone in bed beside you my dear.  B

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