Glassman  and Rosewoman

by Donald Neal McKay
Copyright 2003

Take this message

       to your heart

                                    and

       place it in a special

corner,

       a point of

                 subjective merit

which is worthy

       of comment

                 through my

                           words.

Your

eyes –

       not merely

                 content to be

mirrors of your

                           soul,

but

       hosts to

                 the fireworks

                           in your

                                    heart.

Magnificent!

       Breathtaking!

                           The

                           pyrotechnic

glow

                 radiating

throughout

       your

                 face….

                                    Ah,

Rosewoman,

       you sing

                 blossoms

                                    and

I

       Glassman

                           whistle

darts.

                 I do

                 love you…

                                    and

because

       I love you,

                           woman with the

eyes of roses –

                           exploding roses –

                 with burning colors,

I

want you

to be

free

of

       yesterday and

                          the owner of

       tomorrows –

       rid of the

                           despair

which troubles

us,                                        

       causing a prayer to 

                                          rise:

             Thank you for

being in

                                     heaven.

We’ve received your

                                                       blessing but…

                                                                 must your love

                                                                 be so

                                                                           hard?!

Glassman I –

                 whistle darts.

Rosewoman you –

                 sing blossoms.

                                    But

be happy

       dear one and

                 I will reflect that

                           happiness back

                           on

                           you.

                                    Oh,

those eyes,

       a wild fantasy

                 land for

                           children

                                    amidst

the

       skyrockets

                 am I in there

like a little boy

                 playing.

                                    Oh,

those eyes

                           of yours!

Glassman, he

       whistled darts;

                                    Rosewoman, she

sang

                 blossoms.

                                    Oh,

Rosewoman,

       how I would

                 like to take

                                    you

under my arm

                                    and

the two of

       us fly to those

                 mystical lands

that we’ve seen

       before only in

                 our dreams.

Just

to

       soar

with

you

and

       watch

your

       face

                 light

                           up

                                    with

pure

ecstasy

                 and

                 sheer

                                    delight

in discovering

       the great

                 treasures

                                    of the

world.

                 No longer

the

frustration,

       the disappointment –

                 the envy –

of having

       been         

                 left

       behind,

       nor the

                 impotence of

                 making dame fortune’s

                 find…

                                    and

having no one

       to share the

                                    exhilaration.

Not

this

time, dear

                 rose.

                 Because I

                 am

                           here

                                    along side

                                                       you.

For

that

       which

                 give

                           you

                                    pleasure,

does

       also

                 lift my

                                    heart

to the

                 highest plane of

                                              exaltation.

To this,

                 Glassman he

                                              whistled no

                                              darts…

to this, though,

                 Rosewoman she

                           wept

                                    blossoms

                                              of

                                                       joy.

– # –