a feather-like touch
brings the scent of rain then goes
whispering away

a circuit of the planets
a measurement of time
a chance to start anew
another crumpled, used calendar
*the time since I've seen you

The clamor of attention
The cry of the crowd
This is what she wanted
Her dream, her hope, her song

The only thing that felt 'right'
Was her future as a star
But now she's finally here
And realizing she was wrong

A
Poem
Is just a
Jumbled mix
Of words, shaped
And shifted according
To the writer's every whim-
Lovely, gray, unexpected, cliche,
Harsh, crisp, ragged, soft, or pointed
As an
Arrowhead

Sometimes I sit here
and
wonder about you.

Have you come near?
Or
Have you gone away?

Do you look in the mirror
And
See how you've changed?

Are your memories clear
Or
Can you not picture me?

When you're quiet, do I appear
In
Your thoughts like you do in mine?

Am I as great a fear
To
You as you are to me?