Ah, I remember her well.

She used to roam the woods brandishing her scepter of sticks
Commanding the creatures of the forest
The blue jays loved her, all the animals loved her, but, especially those blue jays
They brought her gifts.
And accompanied her on all her adventures
And watched her from the branches
In return
She gave offerings of bread and warm milk
And wore their feathers in her hair
Oh my,
her hair was a wild mess
Sticks
Pebbles
Feathers
And Braids
And somehow
That wild tangled mess
Made me smile
She made everyone smile

She took a particular liking to me
I watched over her
but
in reality
she watched over me
Imagine that
a little girl
pep in her step
and sparkle in her eye
taking care of a scarred man like me

We had a trade
a weekly occurrence
A story for a story
A tale for a tale
She would whisper a story filled to the brim with
fairies and trolls
and trees with purple blossoms
and golden roots
I would hand her knowledge about the world

She saw the truth in people
called them flavors
said mine was a cup of hot chocolate
spiked
with peppermint
I once asked her what her truth is
asked her about her flavor
Frosting and moondust
she said
with a smile

Now don't look at me like that,
She had her flaws
Even the most magnificent paintings faded with time.
What happened you ask?
She grew up

And everything changed
The winds didn't carry the scent of honeysuckle
And the crickets never sang.

She cut her hair.
And her smile was guarded
Weighted down by a heavy stone.

The Bluejays observed solemnly from the dead tree branches
As she withered away

The forest no longer hummed
And the town never felt so lonely
Even I lost a piece of me
When she got on that train
Without a wave goodbye

Maybe one day
The creek will chuckle again
And she will come back and
Finish that story
About the king and his butterflies
And I will tell the tale
About the origin of the moon.

But, perhaps that is just an old man's wishful thinking.
~

Un respiro.
Un exhalo.
Poco a poco,
el cuerpo
analiza lo pasado.
Apago los ojos,
solo veo blanco.
Blancas las sabanas de la cama desordenada,
durante el momento en que dos almas se reencontraban.
Blanca la tela que el torso cubría,
al caminar sintiendo la arena, por la oscura noche en la que dos corazones corrían.
Blanco el destello de las estrellas percibidas,
que hacía arriba era lo que veían.
Blanca la mente, ya que fascinada y demente se encuentra.
Empeorando al desvanecerse en aquellas brillantes ventanas de tonos cafés que mesmerizan.
Mariposas blancas aleteando colman
todo aquello que al cuerpo conforma.
Un respiro.
Un exhalo.
Ahora la mente
se encuentra en relajo.

i couldn't stop staring as the coffee dripped from her lips
she hooked her thumbs under her belt loops, resting her palms on her hips
i admired the curls that fell atop her forehead,
feeling the glowing sensation as my cheeks burned red
her name was sweet, like chocolate on my tongue
and the only thing i could compare her to was our everlasting sun

-PJM

The day that
I
Become
A ghost butterfly
I will
Break free from
The crytaless
I shall take of
Have a flight of fancy.