No shadows of yesterday
will cloud now
no clouds of tomorrow
shadow today
the sky may be bright or dark
I'll see what I see
without grey

Memories of the past
won't haunt
what  future brings
I cannot see
but in now will I linger
for today
yesterday and tomorrow
will have to be

Hands of time pull and tug
creating furrows
in the brow
but today I will not
be held ransom
for I must make the most
of now

Smooth or cobbled
petals or pebbles
all shall come my way
but why should I let
a cobweb of a thought
steal my day
today

I woke up to a sky of grey
a hiding sun, a rainy day
clouds of hail - stormy what nots
rotund, dang and heavy drops

I said to them, be my poem.

Then the clouds of storm cleared
the golden orb appeared
a rainbow spilled color on the grass
the blossoms sang sweetly - unasked

I said to them, be my poem

To the poor man on the street
and the rag picker with bare feet
the cobbler and the fruit seller
the palmist and the fortune teller

I said to them, be my poem

To a new born and then flesh on a pyre
the wind that whisks ashes of fire
to the fragrance of spring and the frost of cold
the stench of garbage and the scent of rose

I said to them, be my poem

I turned to love, anger and defeat
laughed with humour and cried with grief
traced the many fleeting expressions on a face
fluid movements and those without grace

I said to them, stay and be my poem

Then I paused, I looked within -inside
into my heart and in my mind
so I could meet myself and know
see and hear, feel and grow

So that one day, I too may become a poem

Remember your First Dance?
    the Anticipation and Uncertainty
       the Painstaking Preparation of clothes and coif
          wanting to Stand-out but Afraid of Rejection
             Hoping your favorite song might be played
                Praying that your Secret Love will dance with you.

And when all these Desires have been Fulfilled
    the First Touch of hand on hand is Electric
       body Pressed on body
          Rocking to music more Felt than heard
             with Every Sense Inflamed and Longing.

……but then the Spell Breaks
  with the Last note,
    Leaving each Wanting More.

Your First Dance has ended....
    but the Dance that is Youth has just begun.

"I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead;
I lift my lids and all is born again.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

The stars go waltzing out in blue and red,
And arbitrary blackness gallops in:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I dreamed that you bewitched me into bed
And sung me moon-struck, kissed me quite insane.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

God topples from the sky, hell's fires fade:
Exit seraphim and Satan's men:
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.

I fancied you'd return the way you said,
But I grow old and I forget your name.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)

I should have loved a thunderbird instead;
At least when spring comes they roar back again.
I shut my eyes and all the world drops dead.
(I think I made you up inside my head.)"

In that moment of cemetery silence
when Cimarron sun sets down
her oven mitt-ed heat upon the
cracked stiffness of winter's defense
an eagle rests, intoxicated by
cyan sky and river's quaking

Written by Sara Fielder © Feb 2016