Mention the many ways of the wicked tongue to the toad on a lime-green lily-pad of floating dreamscapes. Subtle signs are mocking the screaming voices within murky swamps of forever. Kneel on one knee and love me three times.
Tomorrow…there will be a celebratory funeral. The changing of the guard and a passing of a new dawn.
Will I be able to tear down the wall that you have constructed for yourself?
Is there anything more real than right now?
The broken soul is not lost. It seeks nourishment (healing).
Time is all I have and that time is all yours.
© Timothy Grassan / Purple Night Poetry