Cardinal Sin

A beautiful young male

with plumage of red,

perches upon a rock

by the river bed.

I watch, sipping coffee,

from my balcony.

He pauses there daily;

and looks up at me.

He sports a red t-shirt

when it’s a warm day;

when cool, a pullover

that’s red all the way.

He rides a red scooter

all over the place,

as free as a song bird,

the wind in his face.

If I could be fifteen

all over again,

I’d so love to know him,

be more than a friend.

Or, were he now legal

and leaned a bit gay,

I’d work to seduce him

every which way.

But sadly,

He's a bird out of hand,

and not mine to win;

my secret fantasy,

my cardinal sin.

~g