there i stood on the ramparts
of a ruined fort wanting to take
a plunge from the gaping walls
i wanted to forget living take a
free fall but than i heard the
piercing echo of my name
she had called devastated
wastelands of my worldly woes
my time with her i recalled
her cherry like cheeks her
pesky bosom titillating
the soul of my poetry
wrapped in a shawl
delusional state of my
serenity my loneliness
as time crawled ..
midway between her prose
my poetry was her silence
as it tip toed for a final assault
a beggar poet with dreams in
broken beggar bowl at fault
sepulchral soliloquy entombed
in a burial vault ..
