Under your skin
you’re kindling dreams.
Letting just enough
hope gleam through the ash.
Your head says,
“You can’t.
It won’t be,”
But the kindling dreams
wonder,
“Why
not
me?”
You were
exorcized
letter by letter,
word by word,
phrase by phrase,
sentence by sentence,
paragraph by paragraph,
page by page,
chapter by chapter.
Now you are
merely a spectre
who peeks around corners
whispers at my ear
hums for my remembrance.
My only benediction
on the lost boy
from long ago
is the bittersweet smile
and the faraway glimmer
in my eyes.
Voyeur at the glass
watching as I bathe;
crow on my skylight
peeking again.
All evening
the hills have been
illuminated by a
laser light show,
and now
the skies are
streaming;
white mist
hides the hills,
enfolding us
as the heavens
flash and crash
above.
The dogs collapse
in hot heaps.
Summer’s simmering
settles into evening
breeze, but
the sun drops
ever earlier,
and autumn calls.