We once were deep

She wears her ideas like a spring frock

Impressing her man of the year.

I’ve known her in leather and chains,

Turtle neck sweaters and little black numbers 

She wore to the opera.

She looks good in gowns and jeans.

But I love her best nude,

The way her mother loved her

And God.

I fear she’s forgotten God in this world.

Mansions, socialites, and easy money,

Stagnant waters  from  a holy spring.