A bitter walk in the afternoon sun

There lies perhaps another reason
Another symbolic gesture of will.
Finitely surreal qualities of such
Are butchered and carelessly flung astir.

Take heed she says,
But does she smile?

And in a very short matter of time
Cataloged and placed in little boxes,
All named and completely understood.
A catalog? Of sorts, for the lack of other nouns.

She laughs, this time out aloud.
Funny she says, but does she lie?

And yet fragments stay ineptly dissected
Not everything aligns as was hoped.
Under a tattered shroud of unease,
I even plead to things unknown.

Come here sweetness, rest awhile.
Does she really sing me a lullaby?

Perhaps I missed out on those notions,
I still cant find any out of place.
Again I look up to unknown niches
No one calls, an empty sky.

My poor little snuggles, its really sunny.
Wear your hat, does she actually make me?

And yet i know that i am close
And certain that i eventually will win.
No matter how convoluted i may go
I'm sure to find what i want to behold.

So sweet he looks, cranky and irksome.
All asleep and thoughtful, I'm here now, aren't I?

Words strong, profound, its no wonder
How he manages to be so distraught
A perfect little Nietzsche, oh so thrilling,
All dark and broody, gaunt and proud

So now you know, well be it may
Be brave now princess, but does she care?

Boxes all piled up, alphabetically aligned,
A madman's store yard, how truly divine.
And the question in question, was it really that sinister,
He could have merely asked me instead.

Careful there now, say no further.
I'm a light sleeper, so now he threatens me?

Disassembling things that do not exist.
Failing at that, and stealthily pleading
To God knows what, nomenclatured unknown.
Impressive, I now stand truly humbled.

Be not that witty, my sweet one, my angel
Be gentle and kind, does he really dare?

And this was that that kept him cloudy,
Pray don't laugh, he's a sensitive one.
The meaning of, pardon my laughter,
the meaning of Love, forever and more.

I shall speak no more, and he holds his word.
Such an adorable infant, how long will he sulk?

She did reduce me to a sheep no?
A helpless haggard formless form,
But rest assured, for i no more slumber
In the cold heat of the afternoon sun.

Big eyed baby, do not stir or stumble.
Go back to sleepy, doesn't she ever get weary?

If she were right, and i was wrong,
And what i profess does not exist,
Then why such a motherly feast
All matroned out with all its lust.

Yes i saw her eyebrows rise,
No, its really sunny, does she so easily lie?

So its a stalemate, what i have here.
A socialist idea of equality.
Sincerely the sun is getting quirky,
Wearied I'll sleep now in a while.

Again he dozed off, what a fool.
Romantic afternoon stroll my foot, I need a shower.

So lovelorn boy here thinks I'm his mother,
See, he is a Stephen, completely Dedalus.
Awake, and if not, hear now me well
The matronly tirade is merely practice.

No, you lie, please don't say that.
I liked being mothered, did he really whimper?

A stalemate cannot be vouched for singly
Whoever calls it annuls it by.
An understanding surely is all that we have,
I'm tired now, shall I awaken you then?

Yes you may, and the sun still beams.
Lets walk us back home, shall we now?