This poem isn’t complete. At least it doesn’t feel that way to me at the moment. I’m trying to get back into metered poetry and this was one of my first attempts to get back into that style. This was written about a night that I was riding my bike around and around the cul de sac at my house. I think it was 11:00? I’m not sure. But it was one of the best things I have ever experienced. It was warm, dark, and soft. So here it is, hope you all enjoy.



The Waltz of Wisteria’s Velvet or The Waltz of the Wisterian Night


I wish I’d known the lilt of the texture,

I wish I’d known her footsteps.

Her swirling, whirling skirts of velvet,

The way she dusted my face with stars.


The rotary of spokes and smells,

I dip my fingers down into the fabric.

The cool velvet lines my eyes forever.

Neverending loneness and wisteria wrap around my senses.

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