Violet Begs

With eyes red,

dust she’d swear.

From the far off reaches

Violet was wandering

alone in the desert,

just as her throat begs,

she thinks of her Sir.

His heavy handed use of words

always flooding her

it hasn’t rained in years

and yet, Violet is hopeful

tonight there will be this downpour.

She turns and writes

“doubt the stars are fire

doubt the sun doth move

doubt truth to be a liar

just never doubt thy love.”

Just as swiftly,

as she etched Shakespeare

with a withered and dried stick

she stares at what must of been

a limb from strong growing tree.

There is change in everything,

oh but not this,

the words to her Sir.

She smiles to think

He has to be sick with worry

she kicks her prophetic words

written softly in sand

back into the surface of the land.

Dear Sir,

with all due respect

I must beg

for just a few more seasons

before we can properly be

introduced in person.

with love,


7 thoughts on “Violet Begs

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