Jerry Windhorn

I wish to see how elegant she is,
How regal she will be in years to come
Or how, better yet, she incites a hiss.
Perhaps we laugh: two warm notes bright in sum.
I hold a wry breath…anticipation
Of what her next sharp slight or jest might be
But will she be as kind and free as fun;
Or bear a burdened blouse with heartless sleeves?
While my love grows as ivy off the eaves,
I have only just found the perfect boy.
I am floods away from knowing her leaves.
Do you think they will let me have this joy?
Wishes may be just for the stars above.
If not a wish—a fight forged from my love.