In a moment of composite newness,
the adjectives flow into the way.
Left breathless, by sensual pleasures,
that pirouette slow rondelays,
I take in the moment’s sweet offers;
if for only a moment, per day.
Too pleasing these composite hours,
but for thee, Love, I simply essay:
The moments for me are like flowers!
from life-living giving bouquets.
I sit and omit all the dour,
when an officer steps up then to say:
“Sir, you’ve been dawdling here for now hours.”
“It’s Time, Sir, you be on your way!”
©2013, Marvin Loyd Welborn