trail

i walk that old trail

with hope to beat a little

the sugar count

but more to leave another trail

my walk along the river

with a little quiver

caused by my bone

not ready to fight a beaver

i return from my stride

excited like a bride

elevated by the groom

himself driving that ride

though it was only a coin

that i added to my loin

but sure there were hugs

and a kiss from that grass crown

henry victor     18.06.2003

fences and thorns

i settled, earlier, with quietness

even when thorns pricked as i picked
the flowers, or at times the fallen petals
capturing in my mind the beauty

and the fragrance making self, my heart

to leap and dance to the beat, the music
you write with your constant dance;
but a perpetual pricking of the thicket

and the endless bleeding of my hand and feet

makes me wonder whether i have strayed
away from your garden into a cacti jungle
or is it that you resent my love to jingle

with your beauty and fragrance

in flowers considering it a pilfering
from the garden you are jealously guarding
with fences and thorns that prick!

henry victor     05.06.2002