Look at us all,
Writing poetry.
This is what we do.
I'd like to explain,
But,
I really mustn't.

Good day, constant friend, you
Please me great;
Belie your subtle pleasantries,
Free yourself from blithe
Mannerisms and speak freely.
We are not amongst company, we
Share no ill will nor rogue
Dissent. You are a brother and a
Sister to me, as I am to you, and
We will not allow sallow weather to
Defuse our brogue discourse.
You are amongst friends.

She is as lines to Bauhaus, oblique
In category yet commanding in form;
Her mind a pool of wealth and Grace,
Allusions to illusions, omega to
Alpha’s strongest gaze. I stand
Failed, distraught, lacking the
Dexterity of voice to call her name,
The temerity of will to regain her fair
Charms and affirmed charisma.
Lost I am within a cascade of
Superlatives and tribulation.
Were only she to have conquered
My mind, I would be of sound spirit to
Elicit some tempered comprehension;
Yet alas, I have been taken in soul
And I can do naught but wait
To see if she will one day return.