Mine is a heart on the wing
yet a mind seemingly left a step behind
from thence erupts my temerity
and my placid joy.
Sluggishness does not accompany my thoughts
rather, in frenetic candor does it overlook
its own myopic tendency
such is it that my Love is an aginner.
This fecklessness
leaves no opportunity for disdain
and a capricious eye journeys closely
to the sparks and conflagrations, reserving naught.
Now, mayhaps, you understand why I stand sanguine
for whence my heart wanders
my mind is ever-present
choosing for its own when to implement wit.
December Rose 
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