My life is an unfinished artwork
It needs a retouch on how it should be.

Sometimes I wonder if you still think of me,
In all the ways you used to.
Eyes wild in the moonlight,
Thoughts escaping in sentences too quick to process.
Shy chuckles,
Hands too cold, waiting for yours.
An ache for adventure,
You knew exactly where that lead.
Sleepless nights we'd sit beneath the stars,
And wonder if all of this was just a dream.
I hope you still think of me,
Because I know I think of you.

My head spun and
I couldn't see the
lines between
a potential problem or
dread.
I swore
I could plow on.
And suddenly,
there was a quiet moment
and it would make me realize that
the worst thing that can happen
can happen.

.
I will not die for you
Woman fey of flesh and home,
I linger but to see you unfrock
The holy, set rogues to roam.

Why should I thus be consumed
In breath like coldest fire?
Shape of rising waterfalls
That state, I surely do not desire

The downy *******, the runny skin,
Spark of cheek, notes of hair in shower,
The gliding step, the gusty tone,
Fools have died for much less a dower.

The lancing pools, the hemlock mien,
The highland sheen, the dawn-bird voice,
The Safire eye, over step of pyramid
Merlin gave Arthur a safer choice.

I will not drown for you,
Flood of hair, red as the lye
In parted Jordan, that sea, not me,
Shall pine as ever, slowly dying.

Your healing humors, your subtle sovereignty,
Your blood, noble as seven-seas are blue,
Little mirror who paints the sky,
Though nearly, I will not die for you.

It starts with a puddle or a pool
turns to a rivulet,
rainwater comes, fills.......then, over
time.....it becomes a true river...

we human beings are conceived,
nurtured inside the womb.....to develop
til it's time to be born...to this earth
we grow up.....we mature,
school...experiences, make us wiser
and, as we get older
.our own waters run deeper

we....are like the river...

our actions, reactions and decisions,
all depend on the tides of life...
our moods are waves...playful on a fine day,
they lap, roll...sometimes, crash on the shore.
calm now...later, high with turbulence,
on stormy days, assailing...belligerent,
courageously moving forward.....then back,
like retreating groups of warriors,
weary....defeat-stricken.......yet, all set,
to roll back to shore.......again...

our grounds, our cores, are embedded
with grains of Patience...it has a voice
in many ways, we become one with nature
we...are like the river...

Sally

Copyright February 26, 2017
Rosalia Rosario A. Bayan