The house stood on her memory
The house stood underfoot
Grey shutters clapped Bo Diddley beat — commanding Art to look
A glance saw signs competing — the facts did fall like snow
Tim Torrid wore his patience out to learn what Art did know
Two souls had come to court her, in light of splintered moon…
The one inside Tim Torrid’s shape, saw Art win heady boon
As he, this Art, did love a fight, and blood if spilled was joy
This Art lived for the drama pains
(unlike the average boy)
He spawned such muse in clever ruse and gave when hell ascended…
To earth and kind
he filled each mind
yet split all brides intended…
So split he did the dandy Tim from girl who danced while waiting
In house she saw her Art grow wings — as muse gave unabating…
©
agw
