At last count I had at the very least,
A gazillion flaws. All of them beautifully
wrapped in red lace with purple silk
bows. I wear passion on my sleeve and
love on the soft whispers of an evening breeze.
I talk before my mind forms words the blind
leading the blind I see the horizon before
the setting sun. The atom splits in half
on the command of my voice as eruptions
tear through, I am the calm, I am the
Storm., I am the rain, celestial tears
cascading from the stars above.
Karen Hayward ©2017