The parable of the flower

The parable of the flowers and the lovelorn man

 
She was a perfect beauty. She danced nightly on a stage in Killeen, Texas. I went nightly and I waited for my tainted beauty to finish her work. She emulate content and untamed woman, accepted money for dancing to the Bob Seger and Jim Morrison tunes.
We befriended at a Austin, Texas poetry reading. I was the back-up poet for the three-day gathering. I read one simple poems and she joined me.

” The parable of the flowers

 
The paragon of nature, giving us perfect beauty and secret places to rest. Her beauty generously shared and given without demanding payment.
I caressed the wildflowers in the valley and I remembered my Southern beauty dancing barefooted and submerged in the gift of nature. Her auburn hair flowing in the gentle wind and the blessed sun-kissed her bare shoulders and legs. I told the wildflowers. You make my tryst in the dance of pure beauty and you make me wish to be not a damn man. I preferred seeking the good death, like my father. I learn too late.
The parable of the flower won’t allow us forget, even in deep war and faraway places. Those wild flowers memories make you want to embrace soft body and look into perfect eyes and tell her. She beheld my last hope to be alive and I will love you forever my dear love.”

 
Dear Emily told me, my name is Emily and she reached for my hand. She told me. “I love the words. I swear you wrote them for me. I’m dirty with disappointment, my life and dream had turn fatal. I need some laughter and a poet whisper of love. Can you do this Johnnie?

Every night I took her home. I always told her as we drove her house hidden in the Texas desert. The great storm is coming, we must stand our ground and be willing to fight my Emily. She would laugh and she would sing to me, Seven Spanish angels.

I would tell her. No angels on this earth, just us exile to accepting enough and us seeking some kind of happiness. I whispered a poem to her.

 
__Lovelorn man
Honey, sweetheart and my dear. I love you. I love when you flash your eye-lashes and share your smile. You make me want to live, dance and sing till I cannot. When I fall in the essence of salty skin and sweet kiss. I’m beloved in a woman who cannot love. A sober love is acceptable. Love can grow. Love is like a wildflower field. Wild and free. Never controlled. Lucky man can know the grace of love from a fallen angel
“-
Beautiful Emily laughed and she told me. “You are right Johnnie. A big storm may come. Can you hold on to a love that is fatal? “ I brought her close and I told her. You saved me me often and I’m here for you my love, when needed.
John Castellenas/Coyote