mazzie

i made a lantern for you

the storms are torrential,

the ocean not friendly

if you've given up hope for a harbor

i'll hold that lantern for you

waiting for you to let me in

lightly tapping my knuckles on the wall

as everyone from sight starts to blur

i hear someone laughing from earshot

and i knock on the door twice

maybe it was all in my head

but there was no doormat for me

to scrape of the dirt from my shoes

and no place to hang my umbrella

good hosts tell me to make myself at home

a slope, a curve

does it come naturally?

does it trip you in your usual stroll?

or do you find it like an easter hunt?

you wait for that drop

from prolonged repeated notes

as the violinist barely glides his bow over the strings

you wait for him to go faster

and that's something you live for

you sit on the edge of the seat

leaning forward with your palm on your chin

a drop you await, a turn of events

you have wicked fantasies of

tackling the maestro by the collar

let him yield to your power

ask him a question

if the promised drop is real

if you let the orchestra fool you

still every movement of the bow

every string strung by the violinist

your fingers are entwined

they too hope for a drop

don't blink, don't flinch

or you might miss it.

i'll advise you to leave but you won't

because you believe in some shriveled luck

that the drop might come

once you step out.

or maybe who knows