Dexterity
I return to gather my shards of memory.
As a spring bud, obsessed with chilly nights or clammy.
Strange things happen above the seats of obscurity
Creatures that do not belong here are raised that way.
A red rose flees her urge to provide love some dignity.
I've run out of names; it's time to turn the key.
The seats behind the gap had been creatively ready.
We are quietly evoking thoughts spaces of empty.
Seats associated with the concept of intimacy.
Written June 2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 14) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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