A lopsided smile,
a twinkle in his eyes.
Towering stature,
with his messy curls shining in the light.
A hint of teasing
in every word that he spoke.

But
you sure missed the softness of
those hazel eyes,

   Anne
Shirley-
                       Cuthbert.

It was a tendril of fire
Too hot to touch
Provoked the fire,
it was quite a shock.
Her flashing eyes shone-
"How dare you!"
she shrieked.
and slammed down, onto your head-
('You can never earn my mercy' she thinks!)
-with a slate.
Crack!

"Try and try again"
didn't work
this time.
Or the next...

Shake your head, rub your eyes
You'd regret angering the fire, cause
it laid you out supine,
cause
that was the moment you
fell in love,

Gilbert
              Blythe.

'Thud, thud, thud' whispered
the drops of the sky's tears
drip, dripping on me

I stitched on a poem
needled it into my mother's scarf.

As I sowed, my needle keened
joyously, out a chorus of thread!

But when that lifeline ended
and the thread was no more,
it copied itself onto a new melody.

did I really need
that        scarf?

Harsh blinding glaring light,
eyes fluttering,
heart rendered!

Eyes quivering into spindles, as
knees wobble,
reverberating hands shake.

You teeter onto the edge.
'I wish',
you think,
'risk didn't taste
so sweet,
didn't shape
my late list of to-do's.

But it
is
too late for
that.'

You poured it--
shoved it into my gasp,
--my throat,
yet
why is it that
you're weeping
over me,
me who's now asleep?
You never could hurt me directly.

When I come back,
don't expect me to
run back into those dead-end arms.
to: My friend

Taste the fresh air, but
Not the radiation; when
I look: shadows scream