a shining beauty, he commands the room
holds court, dispenses approbation
withholds affection, sure and neat
While the sun is settling into still
he will decide the determination of love
a force in motion and that
which requires great patience
On the street of a soundless night
he is regarded through
suburban glass and fence
as one who is worth crying for
Through the gates of time
the voices raised
will call for attention:
agitation comes to fruition
His love is that of moment
and curiosity, footsteps
that find resolution through
paths of discovery
Coming home daily
with moss covered feet
is a ritual considered lovely,
most necessary, and sweet
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