Captain

One foot in front 
of the other
a sexy aloof 
sway of the hips
purposely oblivious 
to watching eyes
entranced by the sounds 
that surround 
Atlantic breeze 
always makes 
the heart skip a beat
passion still flows -
A smile appears as corners 
turn up on glossy full lips
simple thought sings silently
when out of the blue
4” stiletto gets stuck 
random spaces between
floating dock on top 
of a restless sea
throwing off the perfection
of a seductive stride
sweet sound 12 bar riff
the only vibration 
that echos bouncing 
from mast to mast
obscene ranting 
of frustration
pick up the pieces 
dust them off 
take another step
a bit more aware 
of what lie ahead
go against the grain
blow caution to the wind 
one last act of defiance
step on board 
a swaying 40 footer
heels in hand
exposing a subtle
amount of long legs
a left hand salute
questioning eyes
“Permission to come a board, Captain?” 

© 2015 TrilbyYates 

Fall 2011

Steadfast and True

5 AM light flashes

cell phone buzz

just a reminder

there is a new day

a’ dawning

steadfast and true

and I can admit

there have been times

when the thought

was like the sound

of fingernails

to a chalkboard

dread shoots

between a fine line

up or down

depending on which way

the adrenaline flows

and just when I’m comfortable

in my own skin again

the calendar turns

the page and

staring me square

is another anniversary

of this or that

whatever keeps the heart

cemented in the past

and though I struggle

to set myself free

there is a warped

sense of comfort

in the familiar

the known

the well worn shirt

you left behind

wrapped around me

arms of yesterday

or knowing each riff

beat and break

like a deep breath

to a favorite love song

12 bars of sheer delight

steadfast and true

here in the calm

a slight haze

of sunlight

not completely

shinning through

hot cup of java

with a touch of honey

like a bee sting to my heart

I wonder if Jesus

would have jumped the track

to take back his last trip

to the garden

shifting fate to sheer coincidence

and while skipping stones

at your grave

bides the time

it’s not quite the same

spinning yarns

like spinning a tale

a web of better times

and poetic promise

stead fast and true…

© 2011 Trilby