“Blame It On Neptune Retrograde”
Oh, pretty lady, where are you
in what park do you sun your bare legs
or in what crowd are you walking some
small dog, sunglassed, your hair waiting
only for my hands to run through, and
yes, how I want to run my hands through
that wild, fantastic ocean of scent and beauty
want it so much I ache inside, looking everywhere
as if I’ve lost something like a diamond ring
or a favorite hat, hunt for you, who has
my song wrapped up in your soul, as I
as I have this song waiting to be sung
only for you, gold and pink tinted like dawn
orange as fire, this passion a present
of glitter, chocolate and nights of stars
and moons, all waiting for you, waiting
wrapped in the breeze that teases me on
the way home, all the way home, and all of
the recipes in my mind that I want to cook
for you, feed you like a queen, see you smile
full of good food and our joined happiness
so come on, stop making me wait, lady
of my soul, come on, just show up already.
James Stansberry is a local poet and philosopher.
SHARING STORIES is a weekly column for and about the 50 plus crowd living in the Puget Sound region. Send your stories and photos to ariele@comcast.net. Tell local or personal stories; discuss concerns around aging and other issues; share solutions, good luck, and reasons to celebrate; poems are fine too. Pieces may be edited or excerpted. We reserve the right to select among pieces. Photos are always a plus and a one-sentence bio is requested (where you live, maybe age or career, retired status, etc.).
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