The sky lady
is sweeping
dust plumes at
her lazy husband.
They billow all around him,
but still he snoozes
on his blue easy chair.
Today
Your Snow White beauty
Is cut with a sharp edge of
Street smarts.
You’ve seen
Too much.
Tomorrow
Will the visions
Scar your face with darkness,
Cigarette creases
And add black anger to your eyes,
Aging you with
Exponential bitterness?
Or will your words
Poured out upon a page
Erase the stresses
And sculpt your beauty
Into timelessness?
Who you were there
eyes lit
smile glistening
passion sparkling
walking hand in hand
through the summer rain
fueled poetry
and wishful thinking.
Who you were there,
who I was then,
both left behind.
You toddle over,
your two tooth grin wide.
When tapped
upon your button nose
you burst with
belly laughs.
.
.
I met Iona today. Iona is little, and doesn’t speak yet, but she oozes personality!
From the bridge
I look down
upon the frozen creek
and see a red mitten
bobbing under the ice.
The old man
who lived in
the corner house
with the red front stairs
always had
time to
listen.
From your hospital bed
you stare out the window
at the empty bird feeder
unaware that the chirping you hear
comes from your satellite radio.