With all intent and purposes I crack the curtains quick
I try to get a glimpse of who might loom and play a trick.
I grip the curtain with my hand, creeped out by a large stain
I wonder if it’s part of the man’s now exploded brain.
I hear a noise and whirl around, more of a clumsy spin
To see through light left by the moon and then I leaned right in.
I saw my Lord in my garden of colored tulip blooms
He is my favorite man of law, mixed in like smokey fumes
I backed right up and curled my fingers ’round the slack fabric
And tried to think of why I’m here, I’d figure something quick
My mind erased the memories of seeing him that day
But every night when I lay down, to him I like to pray
I pray that he comes back around to see me at my best
And go to sleep with joyous vibes inclined to take a rest.
©2022 CBialczak Poetry
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Stine Writing 