You’re always when I need you
warding off the impending collage
of productive fragments.
Reliable at every stroke,
large hands rest like long-legged spiders
sticking to the keys
stripping off layers of lines worth deleting.
You are an orange blossom in March
sweet, seasonal, memorable.
Eyes wane and whirl from the screen
scanning the room to manifest the aroma,
lured to where you stand at attention.
Stay to help preserve false meaning.
It’s all I’ve got to go on
until I come to my senses.
© 2013 d.c.p.
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