Dainty Vanilla.

Unsealed on the porch, a letter sat,
Bearing of what seemed, make the oceans flat,
From days of red and blue, to those of greys,
On both knees, since those amorous sways.

Grant me, for two seasons young,
Enchant me, for-to reasons unsung,
Delirious, over music too loud,
A stranger too intimate, in a familiar crowd.

A silver spread from the golden moon,
Counting reflections of a patient typhoon,
A moment quiet, is a memory bequeathed,
Through winding courses, remember to breathe.

Too accommodative to call one's own,
A life shy, from a purpose too known,
For seas, bread and chords unplayed,
The sure, dazed eyes are strayed.

Letters of love as the constellations chime,
Over the Keats and Shelly of this time,
Yet, not beyond two feet I can see,
Blinding assurance is this uncertainty.

On cold winter nights they celebrate,
As they pass, to you I dedicate,
In the dim ambers of sodium fillers,
Burned out flames of dainty vanilla.