These pancakes don't taste like they did,
When Mr. Edwards brought her here.
The waitress pours more coffee, says She'll ask the chef but doesn't think
He's changed the recipe in years.
I'll take 'em back, Ms Edwards.  Try
A different breakfast, if you like.
No thanks, she says, don't take 'em back.

Two years now.  Even coffee's not
The same as then, tastes weaker like
It's watered down, no better than
The instant kind she makes at home.
She eyes her phone--no messages--
And nowhere else she wants to go.

Today......in some places, heavy rains and
gusty winds rule, no way to control them
today, here where i am....sun beams with
fire.........hands keep fanning the hot spell
away, i think of ice...of snow falling from
heaven....touching the skin with coldness
that freezes the sadness in our heads...we
slowly become aware.........silently, gently
it fills spaces...seeming weightless.......yet
it soothes feelings....every drop, a comfort
we ponder more, as it amasses....painting
hills,  mountains, with  immaculate white
all over.....as if choking, but never slaying
cleansing........healing.......even the human
heart and mind, from bad energy......from
stubborn dirt......from being broken.....the
sparkle of white and  the refreshing  cold
bring clarity  to one's darkened  thoughts
a respite....a shedding of old, broken skin
much like new existence..............a rebirth.


Sally

Copyright Rosalia Rosario A. bayan
September 16, 2018

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

I am the other woman
the one that never gets the man
I am all his lustful thoughts dreamed up
I am her nightmare in a can

You see she will never give him all he needs
and he will never leave her a fact I now believe
She has his family and his past
and I am the woman who keeps coming in last

I am the other woman...
I know I am not everyone's biggest fan
but I loved him the way he really wants
and the way that she never truly can

the new moon's coy sheen,
the starlings' nosestuds gleam;
light's secrets in darkness!

Silence is our deeper song
its here we fully touch.

Are fully known.

The gritter lorry, bright orange,
travels past, often

war waged on black ice
hiding in plain sight.