I stand here in the rain
watching you run so you
don’t get your hair wet.
Such a difference
All the time-
making it seem like
there is no reason for
what I do.
But I love it.
All the droplets falling down.
It makes me believe I will wash away-
if I just stand here long enough.
We stayed on shore
As you floated past us
In your restful bed
The end wasn’t as you expected
You didn’t suffer
And we didn’t cry
But I smiled
To know that things
Would be different now
The leaves changed from pink to
Gold when the lights danced over
Them on the dark water
And my breath caught
In my throat
As your blood swirled with the tide
Salt mixing with life
Preserving it, holding it tight
Until I see you again
Photo Credit: http://digitalblasphemy.com/
Do I write for fun?
Or when the power of words hit me?
Do I write to process, to understand
The beauty of things that surround?
Would I write if energy was freely given,
Flowing to me in a continuous
And purifying rain of words?
If the bones in my hand didn’t ache
As I typed
And my heavy head wasn’t throbbing
From buried pain?
If my day wasn’t congested with
Chores and human frailties
Could I produce
A brilliant new world?
Or would I still sit here, wilting
Creativity dripping down the
Sides of my face
Not knowing how to come back from all this madness?
Photo Credit: Wouter de Bruijn via Compfight cc