Twinkle Toes
by Robert H. Dirr Jr.
I used to consider myself a wordsmith, a caretaker of expressions.
(Literary dexterity and disturbing contemplations create poetry)
But when a good friend discerns how my eyes drive into hers like
Railroad spikes or that the sun is delicious and we are all connected
By cobwebs, I feel banished to the nether rows of a crowded
We met by electronic means, as pulsating as the current that courses
Through my temples every time I see her buoyantly wide smile.
She captivates my intellect with unspoken determination and rude
Infringement of that exclusive corner of privacy I hide within.
I am thankfully relinquishing the secrecy of my loneliness to her.
I sense an embryonic storm within her mind that I crave to share,
For my thunder and her lightning are counterparts in an untried
Atmosphere where landscapes converge and heartaches evaporate.
She dances transversely upon my mind, like a sprite that frolics in the
Lushness of a rainforest, and I think I shall christen her Twinkle Toes.
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