by kEith
a progress
not, a step too broad.
a seasoned one
which we dwell.
to reach these certain
feces of hell.
a suitor, a nymph –
pepper corned,
velvet hue.
Ruby courage.
Fortress bare.
Sing this song;
our modern air.
who are you bohemian one?
friend in this fire–
“showman” ship
of which
i say
grateful
though desire.
my heart
for you
burden
true
trials of which
have seasoned.
together now
we smile on high
waiting for the “reason”