Every now and then, Vincent throws out prompts, like writer-treats. Better than Scooby-snacks for everyone involved. This time, a fertile imagination offered trampoline, violet, lead (in any form desired). I really can’t say why I broke out in couplets, but here you go; m/m in rhyme.
The most wondrous man I’ve ever seen
Is jumping on a trampoline.
Skyward, flying, pointed toes,
Earthward, down again he goes.
Muscles rippling in his chest,
Seizing all my interest.
At the apex of his flight — a twist,
Gravity defying aerialist
In violet shorts that cover little —
Spurring tremors in my middle.
He is feathers, I am leaden,
I watch — he sees me– my cheeks redden
But my eyes stay on him, soaring high
Proving that a man can fly —
His stunts take on a new élan,
Performed for audience of one.
He settles but comes not to land,
Offers me an outstretched hand.
“Come jump!” His laughing invitation
I accept, no hesitation.
Scrambling over pads and springs
–Hope I’m not imagining things–
To stand beside him bouncing slightly.
He rides the tremors, standing lightly.
He takes my hand to hold it tight,
And bids me join him in his flight.
