The Sky Was Turning Blue
by Michael R. Burch

Yesterday I saw you
as the snow flurries died,
spent winds becalmed.
When I saw your solemn face
alone in the crowd,
I felt my heart, so long embalmed,
begin to beat aloud.

Was it another winter,
another day like this?
Was it so long ago?
Where you the rose-cheeked girl
who slapped my face, then stole a kiss?
Was the sky this gray with snow,
my heart so all a-whirl?

How is it in one moment
it was twenty years ago,
lost worlds remade anew?
When your eyes met mine, I knew
you felt it too, as though
we heard the robin's song
and the sky was turning blue.

Keywords/Tags: love, reunion, reconnecting, rekindling, desire,  renewal, attraction, kiss, winter, embalmed, spring, hope, resurrection, happiness, joy

If the food of love be poetry or not,
I only judge half our love
Yet, lest the happiness be forgot.

For every time you made me cry,
It was cancelled out by joy.
And after all, love continues to try.

To resurrect what we had before,
In a gilded autumn ignored; seeming lost
Yet love keeps tapping at the door.

If we could have one glimpse of the past,
Or wander in that magic wood again,
Would the memories let us pass

Into a locked garden and through the door
To open a trunk filled with gold,
And fill our hearts once more?

December 4, 2018

Won't you wander to unknowns where places don't appear?
Won't you rekindle our extremes?
Won't you rub on splinters the buloke smooths out?
Won't you change thoughts that reappear?

Won't you wander to unknowns where places don't appear?
Won't you hear the voice you sought true?
Won't you fly back down in silence?
Won't you climb the light that creeps through?

Won't you wander to unknowns where places don't appear?
Won't you blow out the candle before wax melts?
Won't you feel chills when our skin lays bare?
Won't you hold on to my bones that lay still?

Won't I wander to unknowns where places don't appear?
Won't I feel anything before roads become clear?
Won't I end from bloom fields?
Won't I hold this candle while my skin heals?

a relit cigarette never taste the same
and that's all I'll preach
on rekindling old flames.