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 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Her barracks are the bedroom
Her gun, washing machine
Her M.O.S. is simply to
make sure their plates are clean
Her uniform, a skirt and blouse
Her tank, an S.U.V.
When thinking of him, weeps and asks:
"Why couldn't it be me?"
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
With voice like honey and skin like silk
She beats the eggs and pours the milk
Wrestles the dog and empties the trash
She takes time to cure her daughter's rash
Her blue eyes are weary and stressed from the day
With pastorly reverence, kneels down to pray
Like gust of great wind, collapses and sighs
Tries not to let salty clear tears fill her eyes
With efforts unnoticed, she lays down to rest
So thank all your mothers, they do their jobs best
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Je t’ai vu partout mon amour
Dans le jardin
Dans ma lit
Je t’ai vu toujours mon amour
Dans le matin
Dans la nuit
Je t’ai vu, mais je ne t'ai pas trouvé
Je t’ai vu, mais je ne t'ai pas touché
Nos souvenirs résonnent dans mes oreilles
Cependant, tu ne m’as pas vu jamais
Je pleure
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Snowflake: one soft kiss
That meets the cold earthen floor
With the utmost grace

Snowfall: a hushed dance
Flurries that count like the stars
Frozen tears collide

Ice: these kisses packed
Turned into one earthen glass
Close up, a rainbow
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Could not grasp
I tried to reach
It slipped away
Above the bed

Could not undo
I’d made a breach
We crossed the line
Words left unsaid

And in that ashen
Mystic cloud
That slithered up
Into the sky

I heard our voices
Pained and loud
A memory
A kiss to die
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
In that dusty timid light of dawning day
Of which I am familiar
Her eyes are every color under the sun
Her hair is tussled, teak, and tawny
The bricks of the unspoken boundary, built by a hushed breath
I  can almost taste the horizon of her sand dune skin
But then
She smiles
And opens her kaleidoscope eyes
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
On these long road trips
As I listen to music
And peer through the glass

The fields turn to flame
Then my eyes start to see through
A sepia lens
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
From the esoteric Asia
to the wild Amazon,
I feel my spirit standing still
while life is rushing on
Kaleidoscope of countries
melting in my dreamy eyes
For now I sit and wonder
at the blue panoptic skies
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Summer-- a ripe slice of blood orange, tip-toeing mischievously on the edge of my tongue
Not yet fully dancing on the palate
I smell its sweet laughter in a memory
But cannot yet hear its sweltering fervor
Why are those nights so fleeting?
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
She’s a pretty little thing
Who treads lightly
She’s a wild little thing
And rather spritely

Don't worry about catching her
Darling, you never can
Just enjoy the show and smile
While she plays with her toes in the sand

Between those smirks and side glances
Dreams and summer romances
She sips and she hums and she dances
While she plays with her toes in the sand
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Twelve different voices
Eleven coffee cups
Ten vibrant table covers
Nine aromas blended up

Eight piping pastries
Seven large bags
Six ringing smart phones
Five tail wags

Four tiny laptops
Three macaroons
Two smiling faces
In this one room
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
Scent of your tears
Breaks through the night
Dreams of petrichor

Echos of “why”
Weave through my songs
Feigning dissonance

Polaroid mind
Faux amity
My hushed thirst for her

This estrangement,
Imperative,
Short of recompense
 Jan 2016
Ainsley
And
I like tea
and candles
and antique mirrors
I like far-away laughter
and freshly-mowed grass
and summer sunsets
I like secret songs
and rain on windows
and late mornings in bed

But ****, I sure liked it all the more with you.
This isn't even really a poem, I'm just in a pensive mood
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