Gentle On Your Shoulders

It is heavy tonight, again. Whatever happened to the girl who stepped so blithe up the stairway, across the hall and - into a never-forgotten world? For it does seem familiar, like a song I've danced to a hundred times.

Only, how do you navigate when the signs are hazy and the way is dim?

When she hides her light not knowing why she does it

Oh the sun is bright but she's too close to it

While inside hope flickers like the end of a dream.

So while I was away

What else did I miss?

Would you choose life, dearest, in a snowglobe here

Where probing voices melt away

And snowflakes ever fall

gentle on your shoulders

Knowing what is gone may not be again, but nothing is certain in a world never-forgotten.

Otherwise I would still know the way, and still understand the signs.

Subdued frailty. That's how it feels.

I couldn't bear to hurt another, so I hid myself away.

And now it's so plain

The piece that's been missing, is my sunsparkle.

And sometimes you just want someone to see. Just what you mean, when you can't find the words.

Cities, Their Significance

Wonder why I went back for a look.

 But I am aware of still another mental shift; one that notes all I wanted with clarity,

but with the calm of distance. God bless the distance.

 

I don't truly feel envious of what there is between, just as I don't truly feel smug at what you are without.

You have become less.

At one point that is all I could have asked for, and I have it now. At last.

Don't remind me of the dreams I laid down

Don't remind me I was once destined to walk in your shoes

 

Don't remind me of the tears

Numbing fears

Murdered glee

Died beating its wing

falling softly

to finality.

Two years on, and the wounds are clearing up nicely.

Not without a mark, but well enough

to head back out onto the field

and play for keeps.

This is my city now.

Once yours, now mine.

He Shall Drink Coffee.

Feel like Amy, who
"came to... console herself with the beauty all about her."

- Louisa May Alcott -

Nev-

What is it that my heart wants to say?
It stopped halfway, and I am searching for its voice.

But if I don't complete the sentence, there is still the possibility of it ending complete in beauty.
Why am I so afraid of marring it by a mistake which I'm not even sure would be a mistake?

Gardomien

And all of a sudden I burst into tears, feeling discouraged, restless, disappointed. Missing. Feels like I'm missing. Feeling discouragedrestlessdisappointed, lodged against one another, no breath between.

Soloist

Watching them play again
The beautiful game

There is something about watching a team train together
The discipline
Commitment
Unity
Watching lean-spindly-stout legs moving in formation, as to some unspoken agreement

And who is that soloist there
In the middle of the field
Following his own regime
Warmups, excuse me little birdie, you chirp so loud,
Squats, two laps, pumping
Now lying back flat on the green
For situps

While I rest here
Under this tree
Of no particular significance
But to ourselves.