Friday, July 11, 2014

Baretta - by Bob Atkinson

Baretta
(c)2014 Bob Atkinson

Baretta stays in front of stage
never living in darkness or purple haze
Baretta comes to sit with me again
winds her heart around my chest

follows form to its reward
leaving simple dreams of mind
honest feelings so described
to rest within my soul for time

when more cannot be asked of her
she wanders away from my perch
toward her fondest dreams held firm
not shamed by loving feelings burned

Baretta sits with me again
tells me how her day began
taking wishes one by one
folding them neatly in her hand

how can I reach for her when we
divert each other's wildest dreams
sounds sad as if a lost regime
confirmed into some dust of meaning

me, I wish that here in time
will find that path which sees the light
in this oh so darkest night, no starshine
Baretta sits with me again so quiet

confirm, do we see the moon
as looking down upon our moods
or do we stay in emotional rage
while standing firm in quiet payment

someday, if senses prevail
we'll find a way to open veils
take away doubt, sweeten need
as Baretta sits here still with me

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