You may think it bold of me
but I engage your image in idolatry.
Why I'm attracted, I can't say,
everything you touch carries your cachet.
You emanate a glowing stream
which elevates and transcends esteem.
Moth-like I'm captured, hypnotized, entranced,
embraced and propelled by thoughts of romance.
All that you are beckons out to me
for relief and rescue from atrophy.
Be my love, my future, my bouquet,
rescue me from certain demise and decay.
Your image, a phantom so surreal,
has branded my heart and will not heal.
Come show yourself and fulfill my needs,
sanctify our lives, help plant the seed.
Your presence is all that I require
to demystify and calm desire;
to amend this love by sharing space,
embracing hearts, searching face to face.
Finding whether first thoughts are true,
if love is meant as the thing we do.
Or whether this exercise of mind
has extrapolated and left love behind.
This meeting, portending a possible close,
may nurture or pluck the rose.
Perhaps it’s better to savor the scent
from the rose not plucked, as love’s intent.
Gerard A. Geiger 3 September 2005
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Read from my published works; The Complete Poetical Works Listening to the Corn  |