~


Lying here between the folds of an uncaring sheet
A wind chime blustery morning calls me from slumber
Tracing shadows on dark walls through desperate eyes
Counting minutes on a clock’s reflective markings

Rain drips from altered eaves steadily, slowly falling
In syncopated patterns on damp grass clippings
Teasing my mind in the endless possibilities
Of what my desires, even at this hour plead

Your image finds me, still and silent
Questions come in long sentences
Breaking down dreams of distant church bells
Wondering if we truly could be, together

Will you ever find love again, could you
In the arms of one who imagines your beauty
Tastes your lips in midnight thoughts
Feels your skin on chilly twilight sighs

Of this I write, not because it is who I am
But because it is what I was meant to be
Poetically entwined, metaphorically wrapped
Draped upon your heart in phrases of collected verse

Read aloud as a smiling sun approaches
Whispering your name over the horizon’s wonder
Echoing of this affection that drains my soul
And longs to breathe you for the very first time

From my pen flows desperate ink
In lace-like frilly fonts of an italicized nature
Curling around these words penned in the dark
*Hoping you see, hoping you read, hoping…………

Looking through old belongings,
Knicks, knacks, and other things.

A paper she wrote three years past,
Ticket to a show from summer before last.
A wallet containing five dollars and some,
An old, slightly mushy piece of gum.
Blue ribbon from the first-grade Field Day-
The picture taken when a friend came to stay.

Some things just have to be tossed;
Others are treasures that she'd lost.

Sorting through her childhood,
She sees she's grown... for ill or for good.

No one chose to iterate
Or elaborate to me
The vast unending sea of grief
We tred; trying to breathe

Our paths bisect and weave to form
A beautiful tapestry
That on the surface gleams and glows
With possibility.

Beneath, time tugs each thin line
Until one snaps and breaks
One little thread removed and gone
Left havoc in its wake.

Something once so beautiful
Unravels, sags and fades
Parallel to how the Sun
Sets each dying day.

I could do nothing
else but stop
and step inside
this blessed shop
to breathe again
the heady air
of knowledge that
is stacked in here
on quiet shelves
in dusty lines
of books that would
look nice on mine
but I have spent
my money so
I'll just choose one
and quietly go.

Shhhhh!

I've died quite a bit
since you last saw
me