Seeking a touch
by George "Papa" G.
Through the whole world I stroll on feet of rhymes, along roads of prose, seeking a love that can touch my soul. A Pagan Prince in disguise, lost in Caesar's dream, I fight to convince Karma the debts are lies.
Unique, but never meek or weak, I confide much to the Gods of old. Greek, Roman and Irish bold.
Shall I wince at the odds? No, never.
With pride, I ride with brothers dressed in black, and a flag on my back, but still the dove inside flies. With a hole in my heart, I pen my art, speaking, shrieking that I will not be denied love this time. Sunsets and sunrises, omens and friends, inspire the wise to cry and the muse to sing and scream within my head. With eyes of green, a prize I may someday be, but today I am just a man of faith and hope. Fun in Houston, a bet you will not forget or regret. Write and we shall both have won.
So this is done, silly as it seems I go to ride along the sea and my beloved bay dreaming of the one who shall ride with me.
Papa G. © Friday, April 30, 2004
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