EMD 3h
Do you know that smell that some books have?
The smell that takes you straight into the world in the ink?
Something between smoke and wood chips?
The smell of what music would smell like?
That smell the one of the farthest back shelf in the library?
The one where it smells like the hands of those who’ve loved it?
Do you know that smell that some books have?
The one that can take you anywhere in the world?
Any time, anyplace, with any person, of any race?
The smell of fresh printers ink and ancient paper?
Do you know that smell?
EMD 1d
Three white doves cannot fit in a nest
    But if the extra cannot find a mate
Then where should it fly at springtime’s end?
That lonely little dove, caught between two worlds
   The little dove left alone to mourn what it could not have
      Mourning it’s lost love in a lonely, empty little nest
         Perched precarious and pretty on a windowsill
            Little grey dove, mourning the morning
  2d EMD
Eric the Red
Just know...
He’s had lives & loves before you
Remember that when the bricklayer or the mechanic
Asks for your hand
You’ll receive one flower
Instead of a dozen roses
Picked on his way home
Handwritten notes in your shoes
Instead of Hallmark greetings
Elaborate dinners cooked by him
Where he said he’d clean
Afterwards
But didn’t
Spur of the moment
Road trips
Instead of planned vacations
The opening of windows
For the springtime thunderstorms
Listening to the beat of his heart
While the rain drops
Drip
Drip
I
N
T
O
The drain
He’ll write you with jazz playing
Wine in his bottle
Records in his head
Absorbing you into his world
And if he dies before you
And you bury him
And you mourn over him
Lasting for years
Remember his flower
His notes written just for you
And if you see his ghost
Haunting you
Then the Poet
Has fallen forever for
...You...
  3d EMD
The Willow
If I think about all the ways I’m losing you,
I’ll drive myself insane.

Instead, I’ll think about everything I’m gaining:

My sense of humor back
My real laugh
My productivity
Feeling like myself again
My self respect
My voice
My time
My dreams that do not include you
  3d EMD
David
She sold flowers by the river
Bunches, picked by hand
She smiled at passing people
She wore a black armband

The flowers were the wild ones
That grew around her feet
Daisy's and the Daffodils
Her smile your eyes would meet

The bunches tied with ribbon
As yellow as her hair
But I only saw the armband
And couldn't help but stare

'I'll take a bunch of Daisys
Threw a coin into her hat
I gestured to the armband
She shuffled on the mat

'This is for my Grandpa,
A man I never knew,
And for all the other Grandpa's
That the bullets cruelly slew'

'I wear this to remember,
Those that gave their life,
So that I can sell these flowers,
And have freedom in my life'

'All the money I've collected,
In this, my Grandpa's hat
Will go to those more needy
Than me upon this mat'

A queue behind me forming
I smiled and moved away
And left her selling flowers
In the sunshine of the day
I am tired
of carrying these ashes
around from the flame
that used to burn
between us.
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