Ode to Childhood

A gentle Spring breeze caresses my rosy face
Flushed with natural radiance and delight.
The black roses are still red, still bright.
Their eau de parfum is soft as lace.

The cuts on my skin are but innocent grazes
And when I fall I can easily get back up.
My clothes are loose; I am fat like a pup
But comfortable, not caring for other’s gazes.

The ice-cream on my tongue is sweet, cold,
Though it carries the promise of Summer yet.
When the glowing sun begins to set
The night sky is still warm, still pink and gold.

I am greeted by a mother with only eyes for me
Her arms envelope me like we’ll never meet again
She whispers like a secret: “my child, carpe diem”.
Finally I am just in dreams that ebb and flow like the sea.

Youth, like Spring, can offer eternal joy
But Youth, like Spring, time will one day destroy.

(Ir)Rational Fears

You may ask me
“What’s your biggest fear?”
And I may reply
“Being underground”
But I may also reply

“Being alone.
Nothing scares me more
Than the idea that
Everyone who loves me
Has the capability of leaving me.

Love, like a home grown plant,
Can wilt and die before your eyes.
It can fade like the felt tip
Scribblings of our names
On a wall somewhere back home.

Love can leave without you even noticing.
It can creep out like a burglar in the night,
And soon enough people will go with it
Without giving you a chance
To stick a band aid over the cracks.”

Recalling a Stranger

I remember that his eyes were green,
Though I don’t remember the exact shade;

Were they dark and murky?
Or light and fresh, like spring grass?

And I remember that we talked all night
But I can’t remember the sound of his voice.

Was it cool, confident, calm?
Or full of life, and the promise of something more?

Duvet

i love the gentle weight of this duvet atop my tired body

as the weight of everything else slowly drifts away

He Moved In

And all of a sudden
My house is full of coffee,
And mint scented shampoo,
And there are cuff links on the coffee table.

I now change in the bathroom
After showering, and no longer
Sing as loud as I can as the water
Drip drip drips down my back.

I mistakenly pick up 3 forks, not 4,
And I lock the door before he is home
Forgetting we’re not all safely inside yet.
And “we’re” now includes him.

People always say “home is not where you are,
It’s who you’re with”.
In that case,
I don’t think I’m home anymore.

Wishing on Eyelashes

I’ve never believed in any God.

I found it hard to put my trust in something that I could not see,

Something that, in my eyes, could not be logically explained.

Though I would sometimes find myself jealous of those who found faith with ease.

 

So why is it, then, that I find myself wishing on eyelashes?

Is it really because I believe this dead hair from my eyelid

Has the ability to grant me all of my golden wants?

Surely this is more nonsensical than any God could ever be?

Yet I still find myself;

Eyes closed, lash perched on fingertip,

Steadily exhaling as I think of a wish.

 

And how about dandelions?

Their pretty tufts take flight in the wind

And carry my wishes with them.

Shooting stars, even.

They are just as bright as my hopes and dreams,

And thus they tow with them a small piece of my heart

To the ends of the world.

My wishes will outlive us all.

 

Perhaps I am too innocent, or too foolish, too naive

To believe in something so inconceivable.

But once you have lost faith in God,

Lost belief in Santa Claus even,

The world is far too much of a scary place

To not be wishing on eyelashes.

Unrequited

I find it so tragic that
She can’t even begin to see your worth,
Whilst you believe
She hangs the moon.

Thank You Note

How funny it is to think that
You –
    with your own life,
    with your own hopes,
    and with your own dreams –
Have taken even a minute out of your day
To peer into the fogged window
That I have built into my brain.
And for your company,
No matter how brief,
I am forever grateful.

Take 2

It’s funny how easy and simple it is,
To fall back in rhythm, back into all this
Like whatever we were never even stopped,
Like I had done by you right and you had never been dropped.
Is it nostalgia I feel? Or something else?
Just as I was finally at home with myself
In you come with those deep green eyes
And spin me your affections; is it all lies?
Perhaps I shouldn’t give you hopes and ideas
Until I know what this is, until it’s all clear
But I can’t help but think what it was like at the start
And I can’t help but notice my poor, fluttering heart.