Smitten

Hey girl,
you got me smitten…
so cold,
let me get my mittens
for those
sweet prescriptions
of melodies,
catch this butter prose
from repose
as I sip coffee leisurely
letting the caffeine intercede
as I make words
pirouette,
and I parlay in the orbit
of your aura,
gravitional fields
congealed,
phasers on stun;
Saturn in Pisces;
salt and pepper;
basil and rosemary;
no time to tarry,
work to do,
gifts imbued
now coming to fruition…
by way
of impeccable
diction.
Can’t afford to squander
the saunter,
as mighty things
are in store,
especially when doubt
gets the finger…