The eyes of terror struck into
A faithful servant in pain
What must be done, owner’s duty
Calmly, one cannot relent.
Each quill, each sliver,
Each painfully removed
To help a faithful friend in need
Until those eyes return to softness
Playfulness again,
A friend once more returns,
Tail wagging, trust returning,
Companion to the end.
Tag: softness
Stream rev. Antique House Café (day 2382)
I am learning softness,
Not reflections divine.
Hearing words missing;
Kindness shared in
Passing time.
Shadows sharing my subtlety
Working my antiques
Flowing warmly about
My shifting stream.
Survivor (day 2289)
Take my survivor and hold it to the moon
Red in my hands and seeing double again
Mary and her shepherd man
Holding hands on the shore’s soft edge
The Chancellor and his Frankiphone
Perfect for you to see reflections again
Lost in to depths of softness
Splashing in moonlight
And my hands keep turning red
As I pull you into the moon
All I ever have and all I ever need
And this is everything I can give
Smoke veins to clear my edge
So will you follow me as my survivor
Though paths the moon discovers?
The Art of Forgetting (day 1035)
Even visitors don’t bring lost songs
As they wipe their muddy shoes
At my open doors.
Like angels losing faith
I roam from here to you.
Along my back door, trails:
Straight out from here,
Switch crossing deeper into the woods.
I catch your disguise
Lost in my naked eyes.
Because I don’t know the answer.
I don’t know why we laugh
At birds feeding hungry.
I don’t know why I hear you
When you think long and
Deep into hollow’s eve
Flickering against the softness.
To catch me is your effort I praise;
Perhaps my missing piece,
My soul’s mate.
But long dropped baskets
Keeps staring at me.
Strolling (day 886)
Day dream with me,
A stroll if you will,
Through weeping willows
Flirting the edges of a pond.
Home to Canadian geese
With park benches
Scattered about
In an loosely knit pattern;
Two left, four right.
And old lamp posts –
Think nineteen fifty New York
Al Capone and the Rat Pack,
Steeze so steep
It takes a cane to walk back up –
Strolling.
The only way to hold this dream
Is to head along,
Around and around
Strolling through the gay couples
Hand in hand in thought and plans,
Midday sun with passive flies,
Squirrels about gathering nuts
While little bits of escaping grass
Grow up between the cracks,
Making the scene one of delight
One of softness
Fit for a stroll
Slowly Melting Away (day 684)
On my better days
I get up before light
Put on my trusty runners
And head out to the path
Where my dog and I
Dodge frozen twigs and poop
Nimbly dancing along
Snow covered trails
Slowly melting away
Causing the walk to be
More like a slide
Through slush
On my better days
I get out of bed
Ignoring the softness
Deep within the sheets
I ignore the pillows
That drown me in comfort
And the warm pocket
I’ve been heating all night
Testing first with my hands
Then my timid feet
Touch the ground
On my better days
This is truth
Though, today was harder