Distant thunder roars
Maple branches surrender
to the gusting wind
---
A busy boy turns
toward the darkening clouds
waiting for the rain

I know you said it was over for us,                                                              ­                                                              
I know I have broken your trust                                                            ­         
                                                                ­                                                        
but every time that you get
near,                                                            ­                    
                                                                ­                                                      
my head has heard but my heart has no
ears                                                      
      ­                                                                 ­                                               
You still look good and that's no
lie,                                                             ­           
                                                                ­                                                        
   I still smile when I look in your
  eyes                                                          ­                      
                                                                ­                                                        
  I know you've made it perfectly
clear,                                                           ­                                       
                         ­                                                                 ­                        
  but my head has heard but my heart has no
  ears                                                          ­
                                                                ­                                                        
  I make excuses just to talk to
  you,                                                          ­                
                                                ­                                                                 ­       
  I can't take the fact that I've lost
  you                                                           ­         
                                                       ­                                                           
You say it's over, but I can see your
tears                                                      
     ­                                                                 ­                                            
My head has heard but my heart has no ears

No need to say a word,
it's morning in the country,
leave the chirping for the birds.

Lay your precious head,
against my caring arm,
be silent now instead,
let me keep you safe from harm.

Each day I get to hear you,
speaking merrily to me,
I treasure all you say and do,
that lends a tender mystery.

So, take your words and tuck them,
deep inside your caring heart,
your eyes say everything they can,
and that's a wonderful way to start.

Poetry,
a mirror cracked in verse
each shard reflecting
a softer curse.

Three parts ache,
one part light,
we write not from joy,
but from the fight
to find it.

My heart weighs one hundred pounds,                                                          ­          
                                                                ­                                                        
tethered by a chain that you drag around                                                           ­     
                                                           ­                                                           
  You­ have the power, you have the key                                                              ­        
                                                        ­                                                                
­ My abductor, but I stay willingly

All the pressures of
perfection,                                                      ­                      
                                                                ­                                                
obstacles in all
directions,                                                      ­                                
                                                                 ­                                                      
  can wear down a practiced
smile,                                                           ­                                 
                               ­                                                                 ­                      
like chocking on acidic
bile                                                             ­                                 
                               ­                                                                 ­              
Cracked face on a porcelain
doll,                                                            ­                                            
                    ­                                                                 ­                                   
treat it like a surface
flaw                                                            ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                     
All the makeup and the facades                                                          ­    
                                                                ­                                                        
help to quell the stormy
squalls                                                          ­                                   
                                                                ­                                                    
So, she stays in the direction                                                        ­                  
                                                                ­                                              
of trying to perfect perfection

There's a firework inside my head
Pulling me away from tasks
Begging me to rest
Slamming the doors to others

Maybe it's "me time" once again
Just me, and the quiet of being alone