The greenish eyes peer, down wild and free,
something stares from shadows, high in the tree,
hello there Alice, you nearly trippped and fell,
a black iguana grins, hanging down from his tail.

Of course I did she said, you gave me quite a fright,
a chuckle and he said, come closer and I'll bite.
gleaming razored smile, looks strangely like a frown,
but it tends to do that when it's owners upside down.

Alice stands her ground, her danger bell has rung,
suddenly she is wrapped up in a pink and slimy tongue,
with a muscular pull, she is reeled in like a fish,
but instead of biting, iguana gives a kiss and a wish.

To help you on your way I offer you this gift,
when you decide to use it, I'll appear through a rift,
a hole in space and time burrowed there by me,
and I'm just almost certain, that your wish will to be freed.

So Alice go about your business, and know I'll see you soon,
and beware of the flowers, three days from now at noon,
If you call me then, well it just won't be right,
but you won't again as your arms off will I bite.

Like an elevator rising, he disappeared into the tree,
Alice was amazed that she still walked free,
but her memory was burning, what was that he said,
I hope that I remember, or I fear I might be dead.

Outlined in tape on the floor,
the shape of a human heart,
blood stains and tears,
still, stain the ground.

The scene of a murdered love,
one left unscathed,
the other damaged, broken and bleeding,
unrepairable and inconsolable.

The ambulance lights, red and blue,
fade into the distance,
the siren growing softer,
and into the years.

Upon the meadow green, she stands,
creamy white sheep, walk near,
blue gingham dress, ***** in the wind,
auburn locks held by hands.

Shepherds crook, gleams in the sun.
leaned up against a nearby tree,
a spotted heeler pants at her side
just returned from having fun.

A pond glows silver down the hill,
an acre mirror reflecting light,
a whooshing sound from behind,
as the breeze turns the windmill.

A scene set and burned in my mind,
to be traveled to, at my leisure,
to escape the day to day.
a better one I've yet to find.

Cut off blue jeans,
with white strings,
like frayed dreams,
in sunlight beams.

Visions of beauty, with each sway,
watching men sigh and bow and pray,
thanking God for fallen angels
and for their curves and their angles.

But she walks on, with nary a look,
none of these guys, can read her book,
her pages are closed, but admire the cover,
the good stuff is saved only for her lover.

The trail of tears she left behind,
brings the waiter all the time,
she tries to stop the cries and whelps,
her t-shirt reads, whiskey helps.

Ensconced on memories wall,
a vision wrapped in a bikini,
pink, blue and red stripes,
on top of summer bronzed skin.

The beige gold sand,
burns my feet even now,
the smell of coconut oil,
washes over my nose.

Her red hair burns me,
like the first sunburn of spring,
blowing in the wind,
of my remembered past.

Red hair hangs down,
freshly brushed out,
like curtains covering,
the two dollops of lust
upon her chest.

Pink lips open,
white teeth gleam,
skin tightens
and bumps raise,
as my fingers barely graze.

Hot breath applied to her nape,
causing eyes to close and flutter,
sneaky hands slowly pull sheets,
down, down, down, revealing
breathtaking landscape, ending in pink toenails.

A roaming tongue paints
a picture of passion,
butterfly wings open,
the core of femininity,
exposed, like a jewel.

Approaching deftly,
slowly working the maze
of hot red emotions,
stoking the fire to white hot,
until it threatens violence.

Then with finality,
the flames are extinguished,
nozzled streams at the base,
an explosion taking the fuel
that fed the conflagration.

Gleaming silver sidewalks,
as the sun goes on down,
I walk alone feeling blue,
through the streets of town.

A beat forming in my mind,
as traffic chugs right along,
chiming railroad crossing,
adding to the cities song.

Mood improving as I stroll,
the bridges seams lay down a beat,
my head bobbing up and down,
this music is such a treat.

A little swagger in my step,
I do a spin through puddles, splash,
cement truck grinding round,
manhole cover like cymbal's crash.

The music's there all the time,
you just have to choose to see,
and when you do, you will find,
it will set your spirit free.