Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
another diurnal marker attained,
but no one will be issued a
Boy or Girl Scout badge,

an unverified few will remark,
"this is a day that counts
my halftime voyage
circulating the sun,"
but detect no
other difference tween
day prior, day after,
and will let the passing thought, pass into the fibers of their
existence, aling with the millions of others that humans create,
then let lay,
absorbed into their uncountable,
uncollected collective

but it is the divisor!
the median mark
of a year,
and the world Earth
will be however old it be,
plus a half, like some of its
inhabitants

to be X plus a half,
is not an indifference,
a halved year is
better than no more years,
a solitary tear
still marks the moment
of a moment,
a refraction pointillism,
to reflect a passage

so treat it
not!
with
cavalier,
but go off and pause,
in a quieting places within,
and think,
I am more,
greater than before,
and with grace elevated
will complete my space
occupied on this rotund,
robust earth,
and
be thankful for the embers of
oxygen in and ex
ha(i)led,
greeted,
stating
this breath next
is an opportunity,
and will spent it
usefully
First love I ever had,
Scottish origins
Loved my sense of humor,
I was such a disturbance
when sent to her class,
as the others were at camp.
She flicked me a Mad magazine,
to keep me occupied
to stop her erupting in laughs.
Her eyes glowed blue sapphire
and mine glowed emerald green.
I only ever held her hand
walking her home
on the way to my house.
I wanted to put my arm around her,
but her brother was escorting us.
Seemed inappropriate,
though I loved this Angel.
Separated
as I went to high School,
but I went back,
for a dental check.
It had been six months,
but without warning,
This fleeting
in the distance,
strangled me with a hug
and warming cuddle and kiss
and I realize
this is what life should have been.
I still think
of such a missed opportunity.
Were we soul mates?
I was too young to realize it.
You're rocking ball courts,
stealing eyes,
trying to win my lover.
She kicks into moans,
that I used to adore,
whenever she watches you play.
I may not be athletic,
but at least I write poetry!
Sigh......

— The End —