A desperate soul,
with an ire that rages like
wind. Fitful outbreaks
between wistful thoughts
of melancholy and high
vagaries and feral needs;
a lust for relief.
A shoulder on which
to lean, sorrowful and mild.
Frailties that ring clear.
I know a tousle haired pixie,
and her feet never touch the ground.
She’s a child so pink and ditzy,
always looking to fool around.
And I know a strong-willed stripling,
as bullish as a charging train.
Forever scribbling and fiddling,
and looking to make his escape.
And they have an older brother,
contrasting in every way.
Quiet as if undercover,
and obsessed by video games.
You are wide like the sweeping night,
and you are wrought like a hulking
Grenadier. A protective cage,
welcoming to the sick and stale.
You are plum like the rising sun;
and you remain privy to my
secrets. Though I do not know if I can
trust you, one so knowledgeable.
Your gossipy joints threaten to
disclose my secrets; but I shall
forgive your prattling in exchange
for a sleep inducing cuddle.