Highwayman of Murphy

By
I cupped my hands to catch lukewarm drops of rain,
Dead of night, I idled in front of your empty lane.

I was Highwayman, hiding in your trash can,
Many wet, baleful miles to Murphy I ran.

I climbed upon the tree, scratched my knee,
But through the window… Oh! You looked so lovely.

Perched up high, the branches danced,
I risked broken ribs for just one glance.

Luminous moonlight caressed your face so pure,
Your butter-soft curvatures intensified your fierce lure.

I tapped the window, you opened your hazel eyes,
In a burst of blithe ecstasy, I was mesmerized -
hypnotized - self-actualized.

A glare as subtle as second hand smoke,
A mad passion your dark golden eyes invoked.

Slowly doom of reality instilled, I was drenched, frozen still,
Why in God's name was I on your window sill?

Pouring rain,
Cold blood in my veins,
A pang my heart could not explain.

Your lips were parted and confused,
Unaware of how to you I mused.

I relished your perfection,
and began to ask the question.

Flustered, burning as hot as Mauna Kea,
"Want to run away and explore the world with me?"

...

I was Highwayman, hiding in your trash can,
Many wet, baleful miles to Murphy I ran.





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