The Sandhill Crane glides low,
Reflecting in the rippling mirror,
The tips of its unbroken wings
Caressing the edge of the water.
That’s how I wish my lips
Knew yours.

I wish I could alter the flora,
The gilded meadow,
To spell out your name with
Purple and Mexican Butterfly ****,
Maybe then you’d fly back to me,
And never leave.

Where did you soar off to?
Where did you go?
Possibly to Hoosier Hill,
Or to Hemlock Cliffs,
Where you rightly belong,
Because of your elevated beauty.

How selfish of me.
Who was I to think that
I could steal you away, that I
Could own something so brilliant,
Like trying to take the sun
And getting burned?

I glide low on the water’s edge,
My pain reflects in the ripples.
I wish I could hold you,
The way the tree limbs hold
The Inca dove’s nest.
I wish my heart
Knew yours.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Time goes by
And I miss you

Just like me
The flowers grew
But soon they wilted
Just like you

You were sweet
This I knew
Like an addiction
I loved you

Now the roses are dead
The violets are too
The garden's all gone
And so are you

Your flowers died
I did too
Because all along
I was you

She's falling through my arms
Slipping through my fingers
There goes the girl I haven't met yet.

I know you won’t read this
and I know you won’t care
but I will tell you what it was like.

It was blurry.
it was slow
but time was running fast.
It was dusty feet
and dusty souls.
It was feeling nothing
and then all at once.
It was hating you
to drown the urge of hugging you.
It was writing a poem
and post it
wishing you will relate to it.

But who cares,
you don’t.

Poems
are
just
outlets

That caught your attention.

But the moments leading up to it didn’t.

And then I didn't
cry

I reached caught
here

Fragments

Of I don't know
flutter

in my hands
dancing

Raising up
Raising

A finger to lips
feeling

as if they
were yours

under my
fingertips

quiet
enjoying

Soft warm
closing


Copyright@2019 Dennis Willis