My Master’s Robe

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

not saffron, but a gentle peach….

Like the hue of his cheeks,

supple, glowing, and resplendent.

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

tells an untold tale of love abound,

 fans so gently as he sits,

softly shimmering, like the moon.

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

proximity so fortunate,

looking forward to him adjusting it,

a tug or two making it even closer.

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

sometimes calm and serene,

at times swishing to his dance,

and then…..rippling with crackling energy.

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

do you know how lucky you are?

that warp and weft, the peach dye,

are you aware of  whom you hold?

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

do you yearn like the rest of us,

are you always in eternal bliss?

or do shed tears when changed?

HIS LYRICAL ROBE

fragrant, wise and intoxicated,

blissfully, radiating his glory,

maybe one day, we can kiss the hem,

and quickly hear your story.

HIS LYRICAL HEM

can you see the mischievous glint,

as he smiles wide?

can you hear the occasional sigh?

can you feel his breath to and fro?

or are you completely oblivious in your stupor.

Much love to you and thy master.