Sometimes
we are like time travelers
either brooding in a reincarnated past
or living nervously in an uncertain future
But, tragically absent from the present

A silent scream of terror
from a frozen face of fear
Although a bit scared
he couldn’t help but stare
at the painting on the mirror

Sometimes, in the dead of night
before I've had the chance to write
they disappear into the light
of the moon outside my window
I leave the house, sit on the lawn
Wait until the crack of dawn
Still no trace of where they’ve gone
Where do forgotten words go?

Sometimes inside
I feel oceans
Inspired
by the breath of the sea
From atop a great hill
my heart and lungs fill
with a spirited hunger to be

Sometimes inside
I see valleys
lined with sheets of dry sand
Where parched eyes can’t cry
for dreams that have died
and all hope is lost once again

Oblivious
to their despair
it roams the house
without a care
It's in the clothes
and on the dishes
All against
their sincerest wishes
and as the kids
come through the door
the ******* plague
falls to the floor
This war on dirt
cannot be won
and the keeper's job
is never done

A violin
for the absence of flowers
A cello
for the snow-sprinkled trees
An oboe
for the bird that missed the trip south
And silence
for Winter’s dis-ease

There is no strength in cruelty
It is an ugliness with only weakness
as it’s base
An unsightly reflection
of damaged people causing more harm in defense of their open wounds