Yet He is You.
In so many moments
They wouldn't know to have missed,
when He yells, "I sneezed!"
if no one says, "bless You."
His magnetic character
has already earned Him
more supermarket friends than You.
I hate to tell You,
but He is more diplomatic thus far.
They call Him, "The Mayor."
You wouldn't be jealous,
just proud.
You'd endlessly run the back of Your
Shalimar-scented hand
back and forth
across His peach-rose, dimpled cheeks
as soft as
“Snoft”, you would whisper.
His desires... Yours alive again;
To be loved and adored
while All are happy around Him.
Sounds so simple, irony.
So sad
for You not to be a force
together against the world.
At least He's here.
He is You.
So, You are still here.
Legacy, by sleight of hand.
