Flowers in the Hair
Emily is the kind I like
freshly picked flowers in her hair
bangs set loose against the world
with demons laughing in her head
I hear their echoes on the walls
glee expressed when sadness calls
these imps molded by her world
in images of close authority.
Mirrors set that should express
her beauty full that takes my breath
instead they show the past shadows
of mother’s love inflicting pain
haunted would be the wrong term
when similar stalks my dusty halls
her past invoked is more fresh
while mine is thrust to past decades.
Her charm is in the similar
how we walk through the world
reflections of the ying to yang
as fingers touch across the span
dialogue confirms our match
recognition at long last
for a soul that bears the marks
scarlet letters few seem to wear.
Alone we would be disgraced
abomination to the human race
examples of the norm surpassed
by criminals of the social sort
yet in this place I find relief
that I’m not alone in my defeat
perhaps victory is near at hand
as I move to others of our band.
The demons that live within and out
the flowers that adorn our hair
I’ll walk in step with Emily
solidarity as our demons prance
they loose their strength in the light
shown by one that knows their bite
these imps we own will repent
they’ll now laugh with merriment.
2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20161228.