Honey

If inspiration struck me
I would strike back
and not turn the other cheek.
I'd write something eloquent
I'd give you a standing ovation
with my pen.
If you were a hospital
or a doctor
I would continually be
holding the thermometer to the flame.

You, girl, sing a song to me
you weave a melody
and I, boy
turn my ship to follow
the salty brine I swallow,
is your honey.

Benjamin Button

Every word I write is born old.
Useless.
Feeble and cynical.
A crabby shadow of youth.
Solomon said it best...
“There is nothing new under the sun.”

However, a miraculous transformation is in the works.
The longer they hang around
the longer they linger
the fitter they get.
After a second glance
or a third
they take new life.

And by the time you've arrived at the end
(if there really is one)
they've taken hold of you
like an infant
reaching out its tiny hand
to clutch your extended finger
looking up
with small, watery eyes
full of promise.