Claws in the hall,
a staccato jack hammer,
burrow into my brain.
The A/C unit
roars and reverberates
in my skull.
Dull morning light
pierces through my eyelids
burning like a laser.
A storm roils
in my stomach washing up waves of
star studded agony.
Heat washes over, steam rises.
A freezing blizzard follows.
Desperately I seek
the peaceful
oblivion of sleep.
.
.
.
(Not having a good day!)
Gossamer strings
weaving between
emptiness,
the lace
slides
beneath needles
as I stitch air
into beauty.
The scent
wound around the room
burrowed up the nostrils
and drained out eyes.
Set away
from sensitive noses
the lily’s petals have fallen
and still its heavy scent
fills the heated air,
present in death,
like warm memories
of you.
You are a
panther of poesy
lithely elucidating
your erudition,
stalking grandiloquence,
vaulting verbiage in your
versification
until you are
a kitten tangled
in tautology.
It was a moment,
a frozen smile
caught forever.
A photograph
recording you
as I longed for
you to be.
A moment when
happiness pushed
away illness and
illuminated
all our dreams
When you crunch
into that apple
eyes twinkling,
cheek dimpling.
I am Eve,
and that smile,
glistening with juice,
is paradise
to go.
You’re down the hall
sleeping
and I am awake
missing you
wishing you
were here
to assuage
this ache.
Something in the air
is singing my name.
.
I can not tell if it
is a melody from yesterday.
.
I hope such harmony
is from tomorrow.
Here,
listening to the loons,
with you,
is a precious moment
of forever.
.
G r e e n e y e s,
h o l d m y h e a r t
t i g h t l y a g a i n s t y o u r s ;
l e t t h e i r c o m b i n e d r h y t h m
~ s y n c o p a t e d m e m o r i e s ~
d a n c e i n o u r
e m b r a c e .
.
.
.
Happy Anniversary, handsome. Sam Heughan has nothing on you.
Shawn L. Bird 