I shall rest my head upon my pillows shoulder.
Whisper conspiracies in hushed tones
so only my head can hinder
the intake of my breath
as I mutter astonished proclamations
of how I never would have guessed
or how simply dreadful it all is.
Then I will turn over and laugh
because seriousness has never been a place
I like to commit to
quite as readily as I will
that quirky smirking
that is not only your
presence, but also your
I will count upon my fingers
each and every way
that your voice makes me melt
like mint chocolate chip ice cream.
Not good for the hips
but ever so vital in statistic to the soul
and slightly critical to the humming
that comes percolating outward
from a happy mouth unaware of itself.
I will tilt my head
and contemplate simpler complexities
that generally lead to more
until I am surrounded by myself
and the many, many, many wicked
that my mind likes to travel.
Frequent flier miles are sooo