Convertible

An old wooden bench, Fall and us

Parched leaves kiss your tender feet

You give me that 'Someone-will-see' look

I clarify my position and you fall in love

With the way I explain the unexplainable

I am the orator

We walk past the drowsy roads

Pavements glare at us with their eyes wide open

You look for directions, heart dancing on your sleeves

I show you the way, always taking a longer route

I am the sailor

As stars stand in line to get the Sky Ticket

You recline by my side, hair tied to form a beehive

I give you a carefree caress, shoulder to rely upon

You sleep amid the stars and I put vigil all night long

I am the soldier

Dawn is yawing at the doors and you are still fast asleep

Picking your favorite lipstick, I paint Good Morning

Drawing a sun around your naval

And you rise like a torpid devotional song

I am the painter

You see a new me each day

By your side, to make you happy, to amuse you

There have been many before and are bound to be more

But lovers of my kind are very few, because

I am Convertible