Wednesday, February 22, 2012

A Risk to Miss You

It’s a risk to glimpse
your image
in a photograph
or reminisce about
the good old times
when you were a
constant in my life.
A risk to wish
for one more touch
a smile
a nudge when
I’m feeling low.
A risk to hope
for one more waft
of your scent
as you wander by.
A risk to miss you,
but I’ll dive in
you’re worth the
energy I’ll expend
treading this river of my tears
wishing you were here.

Friday, February 17, 2012

Beauty Within

Caramel and golden hair
not from a box
but from genetics we
didn’t know we could produce.
Legs that reach the clouds
where her mind spends most
of its time.
She shines with
radiant smile and apple cheeks.
But her chestnut eyes
don’t sparkle as her image reflects
back to her.
Her smile fades until
she frowns.
Her beauty hidden from
her pre-adolescent eyes.
I fold her underneath my chin
wrapped snuggly within my arms,
she doesn’t know her charm
her grace
how much I wish I had her face.
But then she whispers up to me,
“Why can’t I be pretty like you are?”
She doesn’t see the extra weight
the lines settling into place,
she sees the person I am inside
the kind heart I never try to hide.
I point out all her perfect features
her warmth, her love
her slender silhouette.
But never will I forget
her reminder that I often neglect
to see the beauty within me,
just as I remind her to see.

Saturday, January 28, 2012

In the Not Knowing

Comfortable in the not knowing

much about you.

Why’d you have to ruin it

find a way to bond with me

pull me in to your inner circle

with kind words and smiles?

Now I’m caught in your grasp,

have to attend all your bashes

laugh at your jokes

hold your hand when you crumble.

Of course, you do that for me too

so maybe I am just a fool

to forget the joy you’ve brought me.

A friend of a friend turned friend,

loyal until the very end

and I’m grateful in the not knowing

what would have been

if you hadn’t offered me a smile

that caused me to tumble for you.

“My Many Colored Days”

I used to have many colored days

a spectrum of yellow to green

joys and hopes and happiness

reflections of blossoms in spring.

But now my days are gray

with only flecks of colors frayed at the ends

brightest when I’m still at home

in the morning and once my day ends.

A palette smeared and blurred and frantic

from self-inflicted want for growth

but now I’m stressed and overwhelmed

and for hues of orange, I grope.