Cigarette butts lay wasted on the ground,
Burnt up,
Like an old man coming home at the end of the day with a frown,

His retirement funds aren't really up to scratch,
So he has to keep working,
Working to feed the alcoholic addiction that eases the pain in his back,

The yard work is well overdue,
For his brittle home,
Through a white paint chipped windowsill view,
Like a graveyard tombstone,  

He vaguely remembers the days under the summer time sun,
But enjoyed the colder winters,
Watching snow fall,
Exhaling smoke from his lungs,
Climbing the fence getting wood chipped splinters,

He's in the shopping centre looking for the simple milk, baked beans and bread,
Everyone's moving past him at such fast pace, with shoulders bumping into him
And no one turns a head,
To say sorry or to explain why the fast race,

He walks along a path in his home town,
Picking up things from his past,
His memory is in pieces like broken bottles that lay wasted on the ground,
Treading over broken glass,

I don't know where to end this poem,
I guess you can say he spent the rest of his days on his porch watching the cars go past,
Smoking cheap cigars,
And taking sips of scotch from his father’s silver embroidered flask.

A woman seeks guidance, but never direction
Because in matters of importance she knows
That though she loves with the innocence of a child
She will never forget her scars and her woes.
And her soft hands that you hold onto for dear life
Are covered with blisters and stories you will never hear.
You don't want to know that you need her soft hands
To drive away everything you secretly fear.
A woman dances ballet in each step she takes
And she never speaks, but each word she only sings.
Because a woman knows you need her sweetness
And rely on the peace her song brings.
Beneath her dress she wears armor
She knows her heart would be safer gathering dust.
Yet she gives freely her love, smiles and laughter
And, too often, her precious trust.
She is a dangerous warrior
With a spirit timid and fee.
A woman's love is a treasure
Much rarer than it seems to be.

“Can I walk beside you?”
We can talk and chatter about future plans
Your voice reminds me of all my dreams
And after joke with tired eyes about unimportant things
“I’d love to walk beside you.”

“Can I hold your hand?”
I want to feel your warmth and clammy hands
Strong fingers interweaving in and out of mine
And I would tell you how great you are at love
“But of course you can.”

“Can you hold me now?”
Your body is so warm when it’s next to me
I couldn’t feel safer than with you here
And I can tell by the way you breathe that you will say
“Only if you want me to.”

“Can you kiss my lips?”
No awkward moment’s in-between movement
Because then will be more than perfect timing
And with your lips formfitting my mouth it’s hard not to fall in love
“Don’t say another word.”

“Can we fall in love?”
Just hold my face in your clammy hands I know too well
Stare me straight in the eyes different than before
And you know I already memorized the pages of your open book
“There’s no need to ask.”


  2.24.2013
1:56 am