Here I am waiting.
Waiting for Christmas break,
waiting for peace and happiness,
waiting for relaxation,
waiting for time with friends and family.
It will definitely be worth the wait.

In my dream,
I walk alone, and it’s
Cold,
Windy,
Harsh.
No voices but the wind’s.
The wind begs me to sit,
And I find a tree and sit
On its roots.
A bat flies out of the tree,
A black shadow against an even
Blacker sky,
A dark heart in a dark soul.
The last leaf in the forest stirs,
And then Winter arrives,
Cold,
Windy,
Harsh.
I try to hold our memory in my head,
Of when this forest was green,
And we were new and fresh,
Warm,
Still,
Kind.
In my dream, you appear
And I meet your eye.
But your memory is absent
Quicker than it came,
And I am left alone,
Cold,
Windy,
Harsh.

There is thunder in our hearts,
Lightning in our souls,
A pounding in our chests and a
Quaking in our bones.
“Our time has come!”
The cry arises,
“Our time has come!”
We charge forward unafraid,
Into life’s tantalizing parade,
Our colors waving high
As we ride on to the sky,
Chasing our dreams and visions,
Decimating anything in our way.
There is thunder in our hearts,
Lightning in our souls,
A pounding in our chests and a
Quaking in our bones.
“Our time has come!”
The cry arises,
“Our time has come!”

You left me at dusk,
Gaunt and sad and gray,
And when the morning glow arose,
I could find you not.

The night before was faded
Like a withered rose, and
I could scarcely recall your smile,
Your sunflower smile.

Why were you taken from beside me?
I hope there is a reason, as the time
I’ve spent since you left has been
Measured and is of little worth.