not quite Icarus

with dark hair kickin',
and fishnets stickin'
to all the places fishnet should stick,
she was more than just a vision,
more than intermission,
as I prayed this wouldn't be too quick;

then, of course,
I was not quite Icarus,
as I flew too close --
too close to becoming
someone she could not let go,
someone she might have to know --
not just another ditch,
but one who came with a hitch;

so she left suddenly,
for a reason that was, well,
plain.



February 21, 2009.

Copyright © 2009, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved.