You ease a smile slowly
curving the tender purse of your lips.
Quiet in appraisal
from behind a rood screen of fringe,
your eyes are smugglers lamps
glimpsed through trees.
The subtle light
a perfect Petrel's wing.
Thus encouraged, I consider drawing.
swash and buckle, hoping to render
the scarlet balcony of your regard.
But I'm adrift with this, t'aint proper.
No revenue man, me,
I balance my cargo of ideas
on the slick seas surface.
I make landfall on the raised beach
wary of the wreckers.
thick with treasure symbols,
generates clues before
the candle-lit window of home.