when you grow up
in a world where old is not useless
but means connected
to other times that made yours possible

then the weathered beams
     of an old mountain farmer’s house
          lived in for generations
give you a feeling of security and continuity

the solid doors of venerable city buildings
     signal achievement, comfort, safety
     knowledge and culture
     brought to you across the centuries

the crumbling arches of old castles
      remind you of your country’s history
      some of it glorious  some not
      for better or worse

even your faded family photographs
      can make you wonder
      suggesting all the generations
      that passed so you can have
      that special feeling

In May
The forest
Erupts
In aromas
"Did you miss me?"
It teases.

The mountain
Peaks
Denuded
Of white shawls
Flirt
With the sun.

My body
Subsists
Efficiently
On fruit,
Nuts,
And clear, cool melt
In May.

Before you go trust in me,
follow the warm Autumn fade.
Watch the geese to their journeys end.
Warry words I will not speak.
I shall return and talk of love.
Our story is yet to be told.

As autumn weaves its spell and colours change,
long days of summer fade into the past
and spring's soft green is but a memory.
The leaves, so lately fallen from the trees,
shrivelled and brown, now lie upon the earth.
The morning chill brings hint of frosts to come
while pale sun weakly shines, and sets too soon.
As weeks go by and days grow shorter yet
winter moves on. Then slowly fails the light,
and soon enough will come the longest night.

There was so much we never did together,
places to go and other lands to try,
so much we could have learned about each other,
so many things to say before goodbye.

Nobody ever knew how much I suffered,
but, using all the strength that I could find,
I always coped. My strategies were successful,
the ache of separation left behind

So many times the same has happened to me,
and every time the anguish will restart,
just as intense. Although it's so familiar,
regret comes like a band around my heart.

Falling in love, each time's a new experience;
the same thing goes for learning how to part.

My eyes,
Tired

No tears to fall
No tears to bawl  

My eyes,
drooping

I don't need rest...
And my sight is clear...

My eyes are open,
But there is nothing to see.

One day I turned around
I looked away
For a second
To reach for Mother’s hand

I heard a sound
And turned back ‘round
In a flash
Life; transformed

There I saw
Where stood before
Our family tree

Mother as roots;
I as the stem
And now; fruits

In a second
My youth forgotten
And maternal thoughts
My mind did fill

How so fast
Did this day come?
Once the stem
Now the roots
So quickly
Life transformed.

Overhead it beamed
like the fluorescent lights
of the life he was running away from

He pondered too long of its beauty
too long that it reminded him of its fleeting

He'd leap off mountain tops
to find himself in the valley
with nothing but a halo glow of hope

He'd run along the shoreline though the waves would wash each step
Blinded by the lighthouse
his tenacious eyes remained unfazed

As the moon kissed the horizon
a small smile met his face;
it was not that his hands would catch it
but that his legs would never cease to try

It’s better


It’s better if I am not around people;
They are all much happier that way.
It’s better if I avoid conversations;
I have nothing to say.


It’s better when the rain is falling;
I understand the rain.
It’s better if I never existed;
You will have to read my brain.


It’s better if you don’t try to understand;
I have no more empathy.
It’s better if I never find out,
What you truly think of me.


It’s better than me,
The version you see,
When we first begin,
To meet.


Once you get to really know me,
You will all see,
Why it’s better without me.


(C)2017 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.