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