Lilac Revolution
She’ll trumpet a mid-summer’s lilac revolution
To smash and grab and take your affection
A twinkled-eyed assault of sweet-toothed pleasure
On half-composed clarity’s measure
She’ll launch a pillow-cannoned war
On every certainty of beauty you had before
She throws light around like a star in the sky
Even her sleepy exhaust is a heavenly sigh
She gilds the clouds on drizzling days
She makes hope smile by her vibrant ways
If her lover embraced her in all her truth
She would be her lover’s fountain of youth
In moonshine night of wine and song
With gypsy-like fever she’ll wring out the wrong
She’ll dance and in dancing burlesque
Ideals of woman and grace painted picturesque –
By the moralistic mentors of caged-bird blues.
How this bluebird’s a phoenix by night’s fiery hues!
In hangover mornings of tangled heart-strings
Within the houses of healing you’ll hear she still sings
Of undesired responsibilities in a shaky jilted voice
A dew-soaked ballad to sunrise to which your only choice
Is to cater to her jazzy Simone-like disposition
To every her wiled whim, to her warmth, to her lilac revolution
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