Two opposing forces
with no eventual winner.
No matter how you cook it,
BOOM
Chicken dinner.

The woods grow deeper as a walk
and I can see for miles
there is no light at the End
and all I can do is look at the path behind me.
I can't bring myself to turn back
but neither can I move forward
and the sweet taste of life leaves my mouth
like the lost taste of a lover's lips.
I do not miss this taste of life
but I would not scorn it's return.
At least I am able to sit,
and rest,
and enjoy the fruit's of nature
until a breeze lift's me up
and I continue on this trail
until I reach the end
and lose the taste again.

Mothers don't allow their young daughters
to experiment with make-up until old enough
but I had no choice but to bring a brush to my face
and paint the canvas to hide each blemish.
Long sleeves, loose scarves, fitted jeans,
anything to hide the daily playground ritual.  
The swing I experienced was not hanging from chains
but rather from the tightened fists of someone I once knew.
I found solidarity underneath the weeping willow tree
as we sobbed together in the cool air of November.

Sly
like a serpent silently
slipping
under the skin
slithering
up though the spinal cord
to secretly settle
inside your skull
where it will sit
and sedate
your senses
with sweet seductive
songs of
sleep

Friday Evening
The snowflakes fell, cold
Your coat on my shoulders, warm
The night, idyllic

Saturday Afternoon
Empty park, blue sky
Walking, streaming thoughts of us
This big world is ours

Sunday Morning**
I did the crossword
Your name among its answers,
My constant answer