.

Beyond the border of withering dreams,
blue skies and ribbons played as
poolside wishes slept in the cabana

Winter followed the guards
while north of here braced for another
stranger to walk through the gate

Beauty sat on the rim waiting for
dark features of sun tanned wisdom
to sing sonnets of warmer climates

But the intense glare of a protective sun
blinded her ability to see as her pina colada
melted and ice formed in her eyes

Nothing left now but a shadow walking
beneath the umbrella shading her fading smile
as summer came and went without even a wink

.

Your ink,
sadly spilling
on fresh tablecloths
with torn lace trim
beyond paper napkins
absorbing the smiles
you should be smiling

Darkened tear drops
drenching emotions,
free flowing sorrows
collected in fractured phrases,
penned stanzas now
erasing happiness
in dull pink smudges

When just outside
the sun sits behind heavy drapes
drawn tightly closed
on panoramic picture windows
waiting to frame the beauty
of spring for your eyes
in nature’s poetry

So open them,
(your eyes and the drapes)
behold the wonder
where small children play
and laughter scents the air
allowing light to enter that ink,
your ink

.

Where will the circus fall,
leaving giraffes homeless,
as pitched tents get pitched
and sideshow freaks
become the norm,
guessing someone’s weight
who doesn’t care

When the sun sets
tablecloth desires
on a silverware runway
with dishes made of gold
and wine glasses half full
are spilled in sad regrets

Will I walk alone
on a cobblestone road,
counting windows without shades
laced with flat screen televisions
tuned to the wrong channel,
reruns in Technicolor

Broadcasting seeded visions
in open fields of tall grass
when Eric Burdon sang
and cherry trees once stood
producing the fruit
of a past I no longer
want to see

Where will the circus fall,
where will I fall

.

Pacing backstage like a bull in the batter
Thrashing about as if china exists
Driven to drink by some wine on a platter
Blowing off steam for he could not resist

Snorting a scene when the lines are recited
Reading the script just a few seconds more
Up with the curtain by hands so excited
Wishing the winter had closed every door

Shoveling snow in a thong made of paper
Counting the flakes that attended his show
In the front row as the smiles did taper
Sat an old woman he knew long ago

She held a bag printed green with a flower
Wore her hair up and her underwear down
Gazed up at him as if she held the power
Reached in her satchel and pulled out a crown

Glistening gold trimmed in jewelry gleaming
Something indeed that was fit for a king
Pinching his skin just in case he was dreaming
Thinking it must be the silliest thing

Low went the lights with the audience hushing
Now was his time as he stood on the mark
Hoping that nobody noticed him blushing
The brightest of red in the darkest of dark

Then as he spoke in an accent so fitting
Words written out by some dude named Shakespeare
Looked to his feet where the crown was now sitting
An inscription inside “For a lousy King Lear”

He searched for the woman and noticed her leaving
Screaming out loud, “What’s the meaning of this?”
When she looked back, now his eyes not believing
She wore his face as she blew him a kiss

Had he gone mad as the world became hazy
Spinning in place, royalty gone insane
“Give me your praises,” he shouted like crazy
“Tell me you love me and tell me your name”

“I’m called Cordelia and I far from love you
Your acting *****, you’ve no talent at all
I’ll give you no praise, no that’s something I won’t do”
And there she stood as the curtain did fall

She started to laugh as the sirens were blaring
They carted him off on a stretcher of gold
To the asylum with everyone staring
Tossing the tickets that they had been sold

Then out of nowhere the crowd started cheering
She took his stage, now her kingdom, she swore
Taking a bow, the applause so endearing
She had no choice but to give an encore

.

*What ever happened to fairy tale endings
When did the sun bring the cold winter chill
Why are kind gesturers an act of  pretending
How did our heartbeats become ever still

Where is the joy that we found ourselves sharing
Happiness falling on much darker days
Meadows of flowers now weeds never caring
Blue skies are hidden behind sorrowed haze

Dreams slowly scattered on desolate oceans
Washed up on shore as the sandcastles die
Tossed overboard with the weakest emotions
Salt coated tears the horizon does cry

Once perfect mornings now afternoon weary
Gazing on edges cut sharp by the storm
Forecasts are sent in a poem that’s dreary
Standing afraid as the thunderclouds form

Hiding our eyes behind last April’s fashion
No cotton fabric for sale on the rack
Finding that drab is our lone source of passion
Marked down for clearance way out in the back

When did we give up on promises pending
Taking a place after push comes to shove
What ever happened to fairy tale endings
What ever happened to forever love