When fires flicker I will watch the light,
Letting air and ashes waver between.
And when I look at paintings in their scenes,
I’ll stand behind the crowd and wait in line.
When stars start to freckle the sky at night,
I won’t try to reach for them; I can see.
And when wild horses are running free,
I’ll stand still. The magic is in the sight.
But ever since I met you, I want more,
For the hands on clocks to stop their ticking,
or for the world to just stop its spinning,
for crowds to clear and skies won’t be so high.
but with you I know it’s best to take it slow.
and with love, it’s best I learn to let go.
The old house’s chipped paint, frail and
thin, falls revealing lost layers
Wood paneled floors lined up like roots
shifting, are veined with scuffs
The windows slowly swallow breaths,
drafty, fragile and dirty from
cigarettes and colds.
All the decorations, every face,
and times of bad weather wrinkle into memories.
For remembering is what keeps things alive after they’ve gone.
and I hope I don’t forget when beloved things start falling veined and fragile…
people don’t change, minds do.
It felt like it was yesterday you left
but memories change and move off center.
When I recall the ones I don’t forget,
I just recall why I could remember.
So when I thought of summer nights with you,
the wine we used to have was on the table.
The table next to where you’d leave your shoes,
Stan Smiths so faded all from rain last April.
The way life brings back moments is the same,
it’s me who misses details, colors, time
like days are playing whisper down the lane
with April showers, tables, summer nights.
it felt like it was yesterday. It’s gone..
cause now when I recall us, it’s all wrong.
I find it hard to stay in the moment
My mind will wander, roam with thoughts that come
They’re speeding into the future
Jolting quickly from worries to “what if’s”
Or dragging slow sighs, while reminiscing
Good times or regrets.
But funny thing is..
When I’m finally in the moment;
exactly in the moment,
It’s already gone again.
The world in black and white is simply vague
A straightforward jumbled dictionary
Filled with all these objects, places, people.
It states Albany as just a city,
December as the 12th month in one year,
And a song as merely a noun. And then
there’s “you”. How you define depth beneath words
And left me with more meaning than I asked for.
Skirting along the edges of the earth
the sun and moon tic with a forced patience.
Between the dizzy days of tragedy,
magnifying years of chasing orbits,
gravity allows just a mere moment.
Seconds meet hours in totality.
A universal fate of star-crossed love..
each infinitely teased by their purpose.