slowly  settles  
over tall brick
cookie cutter houses
cornflower sky
  licks the swirly pink
cotton candy clouds
  leaves
the orange sherbet
horizon
ablaze
This day is all  done
except for  the sleeping .

Casting the old flame's gear
away,
garbing a new wear.

The strings are getting rusty,
I haven't played since that day,
my style has turned uselessly fusty,
and I don't plan on changing my way.

The chords, slowly forgotten, will not
be played again.

Concerts will be put on hold, later on
cancelled.

If I had just one fan, small-eyed or freckled.
I would keep going, but I don't.

I'll go back to practicing.

Steady lads
You're the farmer
You're the scythe
Sharp like a knife
They're the wheat
Stalks in the wind
Steady boys
They come again
Time to reap.

r ~ 4/17/14

We have an Irish kind of love
Her and I
Myself and herself
Old and young
Young and old
But which is which
Sometimes
I know.............

We have an Irish kind of love
In how we talk
In riddle and rhyme
Singing and crying
At the same time
Sometimes
I know.....................

We have an Irish kind of love
When we walk
The hills of our county
Herself does be scolding me
For not keeping up
What can I do
So busy watching
Watching my step
And the heathers blue

We have an Irish kind of love
Forged in an ancient ring
But of stone, not gold
Ageless and timed
She sooths me
And my troubled mind
For she is as new as the dawn
But as wise as sea

We have an Irish kind of love
Herself, and me.

slap on a smile.
greet the world.
don't dare think thoughts,
sad and unfurled.

make small talk.
the smaller the better.
do not think to burden
and fetter,
others with the sadness,
hidden behind,
those smiling glassy eyes.

walk the happy walk.
win the useless prize.

wave away the despair
and the complex layers
of grief.
breathe in the clean air.
if you must cry,
keep it brief.

think of all the useless
words,
that people say.
make them your mantra
against these sad and woeful days.

the future is bright,
for some if not all.

but the thing you need
remember,
most of all.
is these days too shall pass.
until then,
slap on a smile and hold fast.

for  a quick jot
it’s in  there somewhere
fumble under
my last vacation’s
embroidered coin purse
bunched up nose  tissues
pink lip liner
yesterday’s crumpled
grocery receipts
a neon yellow memory
  falls out  of my hand
and screams ****** ******
in the middle
of  a quiet  hallway.