I once almost wed an invisible lad.
My mother and father were sure I was mad.
He gave me a lily, translucent and white
And he said, "I am here, only out of your sight."
We went strolling along in the bright boardwalk sun
He gave me a bear he'd invisibly won.
Oh, the hours I spent, as our courtship progressed
With my Mother and Dad and our "is-he-there?" guest.
And slowly (but quickly) with needle-sharp joy
I realized I loved the invisible boy.
So one night, I feigned a farewell at the door
And crept to my room to be with him some more.
And I didn't cry out, but I kissed him instead
When I felt the invisible boy in my bed.
And he kissed me right back, put my hands to his form
Unseen, but so beautifully, wonderfully warm.
But then-- such an awful confession to make!
It was then that I made my most mournful mistake.
As we lay there entwined in our twilight embrace,
I said, "Darling, I wish that could see your face."
Though I meant no offence and had no ill-intent,
The most meaningful meanings are often not meant.
He silently rose from my arms, and I then
Never saw my invisible lover again.
Long years I have spent, crossing all the world's span
But how does one find an invisible man?
So if you should meet, in your paths wide and free
A man you can sense and can touch, but can't see--
Perhaps contemptlating the heavens above him--
Would you, oh, would you please tell him... I love him?
Questions left in cooling sand
Are swept away each morning,
Answered by the sea.
Once upon a land called Umbra
There grew a shadow-tree
Casting cool and friendly darkness
For all the Shadow-folk to see.
It grew from earth as black as ink
With bark of silver-gray
Its dusky leaves sang in the breeze
That whispered by all day.
The Longrays and the Midlights both
Took rest within the shade,
And even subtle Noondays
From its boughs were not forbade.
But came the half-expected day,
When harmony was halted
A lowly Gloam, of name unknown,
Observed the tree and exhalted:
"Oh, what a lovely glade this is!"
He cried with sudden cheer,
You cannot domesticate sentences.
Believe me, I gave it a shot.
They're adorable when they're just fragments,
But complete, they're emphatically not.
They'll leave subjects all over your carpet
And consume every object in sight
There'll be predicates on every inch of your couch
And believe me, the bastards can bite.
Your walls will be splattered with commas
The stains are as stubborn as ink
The overused colons, I'm sure you can guess--
Your houseguests will flee from the stink.
So take my advice, gentle reader
Take to heart every word that I've...