As you drive
taking me, we- on a ride
from the suburbs I grew up in
to the City
Down the same streets
Ive always known, driven myself,
the same route
that leads to Toronto.
Splitting, the fork- takes us,
Arching
flying around the circumference of the city
The sun, golden orange,
begins to set.
Iridescence coating the skyline –
as each reflective surface
momentarily
becomes stained glass.
“Eric-I need GPS direction” …


& Its after I've arrived at my destination
& then home again after it all;
do I re-open & Re-read this scribble in a note book-

Recapitulate, & end.

It happens just because we need
To want and be Wanted too
Serendipitously here, spontaneously there,
A true friend I've found in you.

Now friends will come and some will last, but in the end so few;
Are in actuality Ride or Dies
Disappointingly it's proven true.

Lucie my friend, has forced my hand
To write my words of feeling
For untill now there'd been no reason
To attempt a written healing.

♡

More puddle steps that everyday
Fall back again with water rain
More tiny drops of water blow
And concrete grasses wet the stone:
More morning hue that fills the trees
And vapid air that sets the breeze:
In spring, and yet with winters loud,
The shoddy days the world bestows:
Of quick sunshine in leaving days,
Sour grass set in mellow rays;
A cousin-friend to seasons like:
The April springs of Toronto life.

The busy breath of a city north:
                                                        Toronto,­ by Ontario shore.