Imbalance With a Twist

A middle-aged princess with ADD,

cast her eyes on a knight, who would rather be free
of her scrambled heart and her whacko mind,
and her tendency, always, to fall behind.

He dismissed her outlooks as castles in air.
She still felt his judgement was less than fair.
And the middle-aged princess in days of yore
loved a knight who cared SOME, but she cared for him more.

Her heart was constant, but her head was a mess
of conflicting dreams and despair and distress.
It made her look stupid, it made her a bore,
coz he cared but a little, she cared – always more.

With a soul outta whack and a mind outta line,
and drowned in enchantment for this knight so fine.
She’d relax at the wrong times, all warm and contented,
then awaken to "real" life, despairing, demented.

The knight, who disguised as a middle aged hippie,
was grossy averse to the soft and the dippy.

The fiery sadness she constantly fought
was far from the coolness and calm that he sought.

This guy liked to keep his emotions muted.
He did not feast, but dine
He saw to it spirits were always diluted,
and water was served with the wine.

She stepped into his winters, quite unaware,
clad in a gauzy summer dress
Again and again his icy receptions
had her wrap up her glowing excess. (Damn him.)

A crushed spirit may be like a phoenix
or not – what the hell do I know?
Maybe just an idea of flame, then?
That burns so incredibly low.

I shall turn to – and dance here – with Kali,
who always waits by my door.
In these realms of hope and of horror
on another and more distant shore.

But I still know him, who cares a little,
and I still care a whole lot more.

MOPS

(www.hieronimus.org)