A man might give you gleaming emeralds
to influence your iris, or pearl strings
for your delicate neck. I’d be compelled
to offer you concrete nouns inspiring
images within your mind. A man may
buy you a Mercedes, bright rolling frame
for your travels. I’d rise up to display
active verbs to propel your heart. What fame
a god might offer, I could never match.
Only slowly climb mountain trails with you
and -- wrapped within the cliff’s high, cool breeze -- watch
sunsets blaze like something inside us. Views
of valleys might lead you to visions of home.
I’d kneel, unveiling phrases for your poem.
Roger Armbrust
August 6, 2015
