Just for show is what the windowsill becomes.
A view from my horizon.
My dry eyed grin.
Chasing dreams away.
Away from tonight.
The nearby tree envies my height.
Falling back down.
Frown.
Smile big.
Leap, fly, lie down.
Certainty is certainly a book I never read.
My head hurts.
Tongue tied.
Swollen shut.
Don't know what is what.
Which is which or when to wear that same old grin.
So I keep quiet.
Silent.
Asleep during daylights and just fights.
Peacemaker do you hear my call?
We make what we can't recall.
Undo.
Renew.
We know that skies recite our claim.
Lonely feet retreat to street sign names.
Boulevards.
Slow drive cars.
Take me far from fear to hear the sound of hopeful years.
I'll chant the positive.
Stomp out the negative.
Mantras tangle my narrative.
But not out loud or in the air.
Down the path, down broken stairs.
Blank walls need pictures for picture frames.
Picture this.
An empty list of who to be.
Who to see.
Who will speak instead of me?
1 comment:
a couple lines through-- i smile out of joy, the way the words dance
it fades, and i smile again.
i do this one more time.
very enjoyable. this is one of my favorites of your work.
you write about the sun and sky often. and i like this. its a positive feeling/sight/memory/ and generates warmth.
the fantastic skies to be filled with the breeze of your words.
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