Lately
I don’t feel close
to poetry.

It feels elusive.
Unfamiliar.
Once it spoke to me.
But now it’s mute.

It sits back
and doesn’t look
at me.

If I call out
it doesn’t hear.

Lately poetry is
like that demon
I used to want
to reappear.

On this very bed, I lay down beside you
With blankets keeping us warm
A faint light to see your kind face
And exchanging breaths
For our face are as close
As the sun meets the horizon
As darkness covers the sky

Love, I pray for your happiness
I may not be the one you see
As the night falls, and
As the morning is born
But know that I'll always be there

As this night ends
Let me tell you this:
Just like the stars in the sky
And the moon during morning shine
I may not be visible
But I am there with you

The first thing I saw early this morning
When I pulled back the light green curtains
Was a hectic blue 'n orange butterfly
Wavering in the fair sun of my garden -
'tween the enclosed well and the laurel tree.

On a sidewalk, red and radiant,
Strutted two maidens together,
A turquoise skirt wore the one,
A chocolate T-shirt the other.

Jubilant they were together,
As the cadence of their laughter
Waved in the air like Tunisian silk.

No harvest did my screen display today,
No mountain range did loom far in the distance;
All that was shown were a laughing sidewalk,
And a quivering sun in a small garden.

(c) LazharBouazzi