I tried Ben Gieske's rules for a ghazal... respect, Ben ! Not easy !
How wrong was I, that love would be a breeze:
more like wet washing waiting for the breeze…
Regrets have scrubbed my heart; I’ve paid my fees;
your words would dry my cheek with love’s soft breeze..
I’m like a wet rag; shapeless; ill at ease --
all pegged out and longing for the breeze.
You’ve put me through the wringer – so now please
make me dance like washing in the breeze !
You know I love you… just say something… jeez…
for the love of Mike, let's shoot the breeze !