Breath

You find me here as a mute
wandering loose with no control
overwhelmed by life's finds
in the space of beauty's punch
loveliness is my frailty
in its grasp my knees are weak
other ailments find their due
as I submit to charm’s cuff.

If my breath leaves my frame
a face is sure to blame
by depth of eye or shade of hair
contours cause lungs to still
conversation leaves my mouth
banter dies inside my chest
unable to form full thoughts
I'm reduced to mutter gibberish.

Shapely form I'd admit
spurs me hard to consequence
the leap of heart and rush of blood
are nature's way of taking note
last such beauty begs the doubts
did I put my best foot first
or did I act like the fool
struck now dumb by splendor’s grace.

2016, Sean Green. All Rights Reserved, 20160928.