It was called "The Right Of Spring"
I was scared, excited, elated
Taking my place on the stage above the footlights,
I shook, like an earthquake of the soul
I'd danced this piece several times before, but never in front of such a number of eyes
The other dancers seemed fine
We'd practiced for 8 months for this particular show
We were to perform twice daily, for 3 days
Hard, excruciating work
But such is the dance
I began to sweat profusely, I felt the blood draining from my face
And right at the second turn,
I hit the floor with a thud.
Becoming human

I hear a subtle whisper,
and it sends my spine a chill,
I hear the same old song play,
the one that bears me ill,

I look for other signs of,
you here within these walls,
I listen for the sound of,
your voice as darkness falls,

I feel a gentle breeze go,
so sweetly by my face,
then move the lovely flowers,
left in our favorite vase,

I watch a lovely night bird,
glide swiftly to my sill,
I so dearly want to touch him,
to not-
against my will,

I will always look for you dear,
down these empty halls,
I will always hear your sound love,
as true love always calls,

I know your shadows dancing,
it moves in perfect grace,
your images of leather,
are bound in ancient lace,

You dance upon these walls here,
an in every sacred place,

A heart can possibly ever keep.

Ma Cherie © 2017

My thoughts
are a random playground,
                    

         that seem to like the slow slide to derangement.

I'm not one for words
and yet, your words are wanted
Actions are louder.

The goal isnt to avoid death, but to live a life so full of love and passion that when you do die, the energy that pours out of you is like soul food for the universe.

As the ******* of healing herb
that made the tomato melt in his embrace
forms a perfect circle inside my cup
I sit here reminiscing the warm winter nights
When we would talk of how
I would make you some soup
Every time your body lost a battle with the weather
I reckon how you would draw a reel of our happy future
I sit here in the present, replaying, analyzing the past
And I cannot find one speck of wrongdoing
That pulled you away from me
Why, then, am I seated here, alone
giving in to the changing weather?
The temperature is rising around
But I feel cold and almost empty
Filling myself with hope
And soup