Come-forth

Blank page,
calm void,
saccharine savour,
in the prospect,
of woolly daylight.

Fly-by-night,
I tickle the child in me,
to surrender,
to burst,
to play, engage,
with innocence, with bounce,
with allure, to dare,
the while…
being prude.

And then, when,
my reason,
my treason,
arises,
for a while, I part;
I roam, I seek,
only to find,
my reason,
my treason,
is my betrayal.

In circles I think,
I come to the brink,
as I laps moments,
I torture my being.
I will no more,
as I have come-forth,
a new, a phew, acute.

*By Melissa Hekkers, Published in verse book “Come-Forth”