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you are my disease with no cure

You are my disease,

with no cure.

A  Kansas flower,

blooming in the sun.

Wisps of vapors across

July skies.

Rarity of a Mexicali 


Lonely wolf,

telling his story.

Under full harvest moon,

Love won and lost.

Trace your steps,

on prairie fields.

With a dry smile,

stoop for that last prairie flower.

Held to one’s lips,

my drug, my life.

My love.

You are,

and always will.

Be my disease,

with no cure. 


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Copyright © 2010-2020 Carl Riley (Fuzzy1954)- All rights reserved- This material may not be reproduced, displayed, modified, distributed, copied in part or its entirely without prior permission from the author.

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