Monday, May 14, 2012

Concequences of Lightning

Lightning shoots down my arm, down to my toes,
Making me think I could frighten off foes
Made of legends! Olympian Gods! Maid
Of honor, well, what's that mean exactly?
It means she's the prettiest bell who stayed
On the earth to make a man made; a fee
She said that must be rapid with like act,
That must be given over to a pact
Of ink, writ with pen from eternity
And sealed over by a maternity.
She's speaking words to me, some old maid's hope
That we can be married, and grandly wed.
I'll sign any paper; wish we'd elope
Than to go through a big wedding instead.

                          Consequences of Lightening, (c) Luke Bennette, May 2012

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