The laneway smells of sweet clover
Overrun by long timothy
That soaks toes in morning’s walk
Back and forth we go.
Dampness holds its structure
Amidst low hanging overcast clouds
That have lifted only slightly
Since twilight broke them off.
Calmness awaits
Imagination creeps in
Day’s plans unfold
Tracks on the road.
I am not an angel.
My wings broke,
And the sky laughed
While sun spit pink
Upon both edges
Of the letting horizon,
And just as trees
Bagan to bend
Like wings of a crow
Moving again,
My two feet
So placed
Into thick layers
Of mud, unfolding,
Began to tremble
And quake
Further losing development
Of each gray spot of mind.
Fires woke and excited the beast
Roaring in a blaze.
Night curling around dark poles
Eyes intently gazed.
Lips so pure; an Angel descended
Lightly touching down
Afraid of nothing, no need to be
As day broke all around.
Visions of a playful glen
Peaceful animals, babbling stream
Walking with a certain gait
Midsummer’s healthiest dream.
When the wind blew at my door
There I was standing tall
I saw the drifts of snow gather
I heard the poplars clack together
And deep within my cooling heart
I heard a groan so vivid
It symbolized the burden laid
At the foot of my days toil
It symbolized ice cold water
Gathered at the stream
And every step upon
Frozen soil with a cold shovel
It symbolized the sweat that broke
Each sinew in my back
To which I closed my eyes tightly
Forehead resting on the window
Wind blowing at my door
Organs broke thunder
Through clouds of heaven
While doves spirited
A wide-awake call
Destined for a wild ride
Through paradise
Leaving an echo
Ricocheting off
A mystery that did not exist
Until forever remained
Unexplained
And lost.
Tracked time to lose myself
Two pencils and a measure
Which broke down each snapped line
Dull blades and drill bits.
Like settled dust
The wind blew over untacked down recycling
Snow began to fall
And the ground I had become familiar with
Turned hard and markedly frozen
Mystically speaking, the proverbs are relating accurately;
Horizontally strengthened with the thinnest of threads
Circled around my baby finger exactly 29 times
In a very tightly strewn pattern, accidentally.
Insomniac. Running at top speeds with wild horses;
That old farmhouse sitting amongst poppies and buttercups
Where I’ve lived once before; a feeling from depths unexplainable
Leveraging it’s way amongst modernities.
So it was a callused palm that broke this frozen spell;
Alone upon a park bench of inner city, inner beauty,
Brook bubbling by with homeless and suits (much quicker)
An eye awoke to stretch it’s glorious wings wide.
To which I had never encountered before;
To who I had never held hands with before;
To where I had never stepped in and amongst before;
To here, to this home of a quietly broken fear.
If the sun broke my heart,
Would it shine on in?
Would my splintering fragments
Fray like a hand tied bushel?
Could you bare to see the day
Which evanescent hot rays
Left sour marks upon my boiling skin?
Scouring pure innocence
With marks of the future.
I hope that hurt
Knee jams
Thigh strikes
Booty poppin
Great revealing
Temptress sultry
Mojo breakin
Cause god damn
I think I just broke something
If I were to stumble
Leaving days breath behind
If I were to turn
Sheltered from darkness
If my head were to fall
Eyes wet with pain
What would you do
As our hearts broke together?
If I left no trace
Walking through history
If I whispered on
In distant memories once dreamt
If I shifted sleepily
In a bed once shared
What would you do
As pages pulled at your heart?
If gifts lay dusty
Upon lonely night stands
If smells lingered on
In shirts worn well
If keys clicked no more
For letters of amour
What would you do
As time trickled on?