Gun of Choice

One would assume
that they'd be able to choose
my true gun of choice...
I find it rather alluring
that you, a mere stranger
could choose for me

As odd as it may seem
its nothing short of a miracle
nor, insight... that your gun
of choice, is in fact not mine
Don't be alarmed by this
multitude I clothe you in

No one could have seen it
they way it all happened
that sweltering day, honestly,
can you even imagine the
looks on there faces, when I
pulled out my "gun of choice"

It was delightfully,
a twist of fate, fell beneath
the blanket of desire,
inlaid with the finest thread
wrapped around a quaint stem
yet to surprise, it lay idle and dry

For... it had no breadth
and anyone who is familiar
knows that it must be able
to fully breathe in life, to be
birthed from seed, groomed
nurtured till maturity... But,
for some reason it did not

So carefully, and gently I chose
checking for cracks, and scratches
its weight was enormous when
compared to most instruments
on the outside it read, "Bonded"
in metalic gold script... Indeed
it was handsome....

My "gun of choice" is a quill
because come rain, or shine
it never lets me down... it fights
hate, and spins in bountiful love
it wakes lives, and saves the
drowning... So, next time when
you say you know me.. Mean it

Karen D.
2010 (C)