They say it’s two to tango, two peas in a pod, two to make a party (but three for a bash).
And when I’m there doing something rash, they stop me with a grasp on the shoulder in a voice that could move mountains, turn them into boulders
“Stop.” And I stop. “Think.” And I think, and it all falls into place, a plan, the moves, the entry and escape, everything but the kitchen sink, because we’re not plumbers
We’re partners in crime, a beat and a rhyme, parsley and sage, rosemary and thyme, sketch ink, and line, and then color, white and black, in perfect balance, honey and malice, badger and chalice, wine in a sacred cup, pews in the church from where we rise up, thanking the lord we harmonize.
But…why?
Is it the interests we share, the way we strut and swagger with flair, the unique ways we do our hair? Our attitudes, devil-may-care, even though one of us is an angel no stranger to despair, but rises up on wings, flying through the air?
What brings us together like north and south poles, fires and coals, what carries our camaraderie, through chaos and catastrophe, claustrophobia of the creative castle? In each other, what do we see?
There’s no words for it, not really. You can’t see a harmony, can’t taste the way things line up in sync, just fruits of labor, brushes, pen, and paper. And maybe that’s good, because some things don’t, can’t, or won’t need to be visible to the naked eye. No matter how hard you try.
We’re a tag team for the ages, millennial Bonnie and Clyde, a dynamic duo where off into the sunset we ride (or die). And you could search all the high seas and never find a pair as free as we, who can see as well as we, who wonder and dream and weave as we.
And I think that’s why collaboration is key, a symphony of us, ourselves, and we, can you see?
Two for a party, two in a pod. Two different paths, but together we walk. When one becomes two and two act as one, what can be done but enjoyment and fun, until the moon falls and we can see the sun.
So don’t consider us a flash in the pan, a one and done. Because when all’s said and done, we’re more than just one.
(My entry for the Inkblot anniversary poetry contest, with a lovely cover image done by the lovely Amuerion~!)
They say it’s two to tango, two peas in a pod, two to make a party (but three for a bash).
And when I’m there doing something rash, they stop me with a grasp on the shoulder in a voice that could move mountains, turn them into boulders
“Stop.” And I stop. “Think.” And I think, and it all falls into place, a plan, the moves, the entry and escape, everything but the kitchen sink, because we’re not plumbers
We’re partners in crime, a beat and a rhyme, parsley and sage, rosemary and thyme, sketch ink, and line, and then color, white and black, in perfect balance, honey and malice, badger and chalice, wine in a sacred cup, pews in the church from where we rise up, thanking the lord we harmonize.
But…why?
Is it the interests we share, the way we strut and swagger with flair, the unique ways we do our hair? Our attitudes, devil-may-care, even though one of us is an angel no stranger to despair, but rises up on wings, flying through the air?
What brings us together like north and south poles, fires and coals, what carries our camaraderie, through chaos and catastrophe, claustrophobia of the creative castle? In each other, what do we see?
There’s no words for it, not really. You can’t see a harmony, can’t taste the way things line up in sync, just fruits of labor, brushes, pen, and paper. And maybe that’s good, because some things don’t, can’t, or won’t need to be visible to the naked eye. No matter how hard you try.
We’re a tag team for the ages, millennial Bonnie and Clyde, a dynamic duo where off into the sunset we ride (or die). And you could search all the high seas and never find a pair as free as we, who can see as well as we, who wonder and dream and weave as we.
And I think that’s why collaboration is key, a symphony of us, ourselves, and we, can you see?
Two for a party, two in a pod. Two different paths, but together we walk. When one becomes two and two act as one, what can be done but enjoyment and fun, until the moon falls and we can see the sun.
So don’t consider us a flash in the pan, a one and done. Because when all’s said and done, we’re more than just one.
(My entry for the Inkblot anniversary poetry contest, with a lovely cover image done by the lovely Amuerion~!)