If you were made of flowers;
And if I were made of gold;
I'd place you deep inside my heart,
And let you there grow cold...
Monday, October 26, 2015
Saturday, October 24, 2015
You want to go back home, you say to me,
To find that everything could be as it was?
Yeah. So do I. Oh, how I wish I could...
I want to walk down to my grandpa's house
Where my mother is home with her bright smile
And a cheerful "Hello, my cutie bear."
But there is no end to the sad and suck--
No normal to which I can return to--
Just a deep quiet and abiding grief...
But, yet, there is the smallest of hopes--
That some rainbows will cross the sky again;
That the sun will rise to dawn one morning...
-- Not to sweep aside the pain and heartache --
But to glimmer on the roads ahead...
In this emerald darkness of our time together, I stand inside your twilight, and languish in your shadows...
I collect sweet, warm zephyrs that gently play the fragrant notes of lemon, and of summer, and of hops...
I dream quietly of tiny yellow blooms and green tomatoes turning red...
Sunday, June 28, 2015
You are my friend,
In the way that I don't hardly know you:
You are my step-cousin,
If such a thing exists...
It seems to me, though,
That you have his style,
His knack for gifts, unusual
I mean, it makes me think,
Am I that uncle?
Am I that friend?