The ground shook yesterday,
And the limb I perched upon
Bowed and threatened to break.
The sky above darkened with clouds
As moisture gathered in the air.
My fingers loosened from their firm grasp
Round the branches to which I clung.
And as the sky lit up with nature's fireworks
Of crisscrossing patchwork lightning
I stood up and spread my arms.
The wind picked up and beat icy droplets
Into my chest and cheeks.
And in the moment before I fell,
I yelled.
As the breath escaped my lungs
In a violent echoing release,
I closed my eyes and steadied myself
And then stepped off and flew.
Oh what a flight it was!
And the ground caught me
Like a frypan catches the tossed up pancake.
And all life was beaten from my body
And all my demons exorcised.

And then my eyes peeled open
To see the white ceiling above
And i felt the starched sheets
Chaffing my sweat-soaked skin
And I realized I have to live the day
All over again.

He stood beside the fence post
At the edge of his land
Ready to give all or maybe just most
Of the crops he'd gathered by hand.
He stood under a crimson sky
Behind which the purple night
Chased, nipping at its heels.
And it was as if he could feel
The urgency of dark falling
And the day coming to its inevitable close.
His skin tingled with longing
As a waft of the summer night breeze hit his nose.
And he knew soon
He could go home.
And just when the moon
Appeared in the sky alone,
The man picked up a tune
With his lips and his crops with his hands
And proceeded to amble
Leisurely home.

The windows are only six inches wide
And just under two feet long.
More of a slit to the outside world
Than actual viewing panes.
All day long I'd been able to ignore
The traffic that constantly passed.
Yet a ****** of awareness
****** my head up
At the exact moment
You walked by.

And I remembered
How back in the day
When we were inseparable,
I could always pick you out of a crowd;
How back in the day
When we read each others' thoughts,
I always knew when you entered the room;
How back in the day
When we would fall asleep side by side,
Your hand always found mine.

My hand tingled for a millisecond
In tactile remembrance.
But as quickly as it came, it faded,
And I turned my eyes away,
For what right have I to such memories?
They were memories we made together,
And together we should have kept them.
But you chose another to love instead
And so moved on from me,
From keeping any of our memories.
And though it be painstaking,
I've followed your lead
And slowly but surely
Let go of each fading memory from my mind.

But before I let this last one go,
I wonder in passing:
Do you still have that ****** too?
For when I looked up thru the window,
So did you.

Tucked away in a hidden pocket
Of an old worn leather wallet
Is a faded folded Polaroid
I take out for yet another glimpse.

His fingers wrapped tightly
Around the little hand
Of the sleeping child in his arms.
His eyes traced the silhouette
Of pursed lips to fattened cheeks
And he thought to himself,
"How does something so wonderful exist?"

He listened to the gentle rasp of breath
And watched the slight rise and fall of chest.
His eye soaked up the sight
Of the bundle of unconditional love he held.
And soon dreams of future adventures
And tales and fables and stories
And daily life monotony
Played like a movie before him,
Drawing a single tear of hope from his eye.

All too soon the child stirred and woke
And jumped up and shouted with glee.
And he returned from sentiment to reality
And made breakfast with a cup of tea
Wishing for more moments like these
Because he finally understood his father's word:
Time passes too quickly when it comes to love.

And when his hand paused over the kettle
And his eyes glazed over with this vague thought,
A small hand touched his arm with "Papa?"
Little eyes took in the strength of character
That towered as a model for a future life;
Little eyes that never strayed too long from
Watching and learning all the things Papa did;
Little eyes that now began to see
There's always another side to every thing,
For with great abruptness
Papa looked into those little eyes
And said, "Go wash up, your hands are *****."

But the glint in his eyes said,
"I love you, always."

I caught a glimpse of coal black hair
And my footsteps faltered a moment,
Though before I could stumble both
Over my feet onto the sidewalk
And down the rabbit hole of memories,
I remembered it couldn't be you
But was just some dark tressed visage
Who cares naught for my haunted soul.