The Absence of Wavelength

Idle Adoration (I'll Sing To You)

I'll even sing you a poem, whichever
of the many I wrote with you in mind.

We could cool beneath the maple’s tangling limbs,
if you'll tell me why you chose him.

I'll sing you about my dream forming tonight
about the deserving one I'd wish to right.

You can continue view this love as granted,
or still here with the magic root I’ve planted.

Summer often inspires passion's reflection,
as we capture a butterflies’ wayward deflection.

How pretty we sit here, thirsting to trust
what could have bloomed above, if offered to us.

I'll play best with harmonic strings truth, whichever
heartfelt verse chosen could compel you.

We have each sung a chorus when meek, longing,
as a desperado sun dips and light streaks

from dusk twilight to night in variations.
You could hold in these words’ observant vibrations,

echoing love sworn true 'til that morning dew,
thankful you at least stayed the night, imbued.

Autumn arrival will come soon enough, yet fade
where lyrics can still foster two in leaf parade.

Inevitable frost will overwhelm your land, while
my words are keeping you warm as long as can.

And, I'll sing you this poem, too.
I'll take any requests, if you only knew.

Could you have loved me as much — how to know?
My dreams true, longer than one season into snow.

I'll even write odes to you long beyond,
might I whisper your beauty on black sight.

One last tender chin touch for the fleet of wing,
remind my words are nothing to what you bring.

I'll sing all nothingness to you in my vocation,
if you’d desire, in this idle idol adoration.


9.15.20-12.13.24
34 lines
Edited to rhyming couplet completion, 10.28-30.24 rhyme and tense and pronouns and direct actions tighter, more knowable.