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To My Chagrin

Contributed by screwge on Thursday, 19th June 2008 @ 04:51:35 AM in AEST
Topic: oops

When comes a wince
Upon your wind-swept face,
I say wait; I’ve yet to evince
The contents of my briefest case.

Arrives a glacial cringe
Upon your summer skin,
Simultaneity inherits a pink tinge,
Cheats me of where I’ve not yet been.

Do you walk blazing coals
And still manage the midst of your peers?
And hobble to the nearest home of shoals
Because the fire still sears?

When you grapple with a squint
Upon the features finessed with clay,
I blush because I’ve yet to hint
The matter of my embrace left in the gray.

Well, the wind upbraids
You for your shyness,
But only when you do not duck parades -
Your still often flighty Highness.

There is a dowry I owe
That fails to flicker at dusk,
Caught in a tortuous undertow -
Whirling a shell-tusk.

And I often coax
A drowsy clam to produce a pearl,
Yet he would not lavish simple blokes;
He only appeased the Earl.

Copyright Â© screwge ... [ 2008-06-19 04:51:35]
(Date/Time posted on site)

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