In the gazebo of my heart
Stars burn brightly, a wide, wild expanse
A meadow where exotic birds flutter
Glimpses of flowing colors, each a dynamic facet
Starry, sunny
Crisp, clear.

Jazz wafts lazily to the ceiling smoky and soulful
Friends and I at a modern day speakeasy on the outskirts of Atlanta
The crimson haze of Chianti flows freely through veins
Smooth, soft, sensuous, swaying
Transcending time and space
Only jazz and Chianti

Rose petals and thorns
Abundant nectar for all
Silky on my skin.

Color of red blooms
Pure white flecks of snow descend
Petals gently fall.

An open window
Cuddled in a warm blanket
Ice and snow thickens.

Swirl of emotions
Monet’s paintings inspire
Inhibitions fade.

I am not the type of girl
Whose favorite color is pink,
I love green.

I am not the type of girl
Who lives for tiny yappy dogs,
Give me a St. Bernard.

I am not the type of girl
Whose afraid to get my hands dirty,
Hand me some flowers, bulbs, and seeds.

I am not the type of girl
Who goes in for Juicy Coutre at Neimann Marcus,
Give me JC Penny and Macy’s any day.

I am not the type of girl
Who’s scared to smile at strangers,
I smile which could brighten someone’s day.

I am not the type of girl
That is an archetype,
I am more than one layer of my shadow
I don’t want to be a persona,
But an anima.

Across open fields
Gypsies dance and songs echo
Poppies grow freely.