My Beloved

My beloved is frost on a blazing cinder
His embrace is like a puffed quilt on a murky night in winter
As olive balm to an aching soul, so is his tender affection for me
His words are as soothing as the rhythm of an orchestral lullaby
My beloved is a blooming rose in the darkest alley

To Flirt With a Hundred Ambitions

Do I slide my pen like a writer?
I must have written a hundred letters to my lover

Does this wig make me look like a lawyer?
I often defend my friends in disputes

I sometimes fetch the thermometer when my sisters are ill
Could I be a nurse?

 

I could paint an alluring image of the sunset
If I possessed the proficiency of an artist

I could sashay down a runway
If there were heels high enough to equate me with the standards

Perhaps I could Pilot an aircraft
If my sense of vertigo lessened with elevation

 

I could be a broker, a banker
An architect or an athlete
Perhaps an engineer
Or maybe a farmer

Do my ambitions make me seem ambitious?
Oh do tell me!