“The view’s spectacular.”
“You’ve got your eyes shut.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t see.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
“Well, what can you see?”
“Some kids fiddling about near our car, the supermarket, and Mrs. Brown’s stupid, fat cat. I think it’s killed a sparrow.”
“I can see everything.”
Less than a vision yet more than a dream, she fluttered like a moth before the moon. Indistinct, her lips mouthed my name, or so I imagined. She was almost gone, almost not, a cobweb in the breeze, a beautiful enigma just waiting to be unraveled. In death, barely there.
You drift behind my eyes
My constant companion
Seen in everything I do, say
Felt in saline sensations
If I could cry you out, hold you
Drink you down and do it again, I would
For now, I’ll look to my feet
Not picture a heaven without you
A vision in white,
She twirled and whirled,
A mist in motion.
Who she danced for,
Who could say,
But as I peered through the hall windows,
Dirty, running with rain,
I fell in love with the music she portrayed.
I could not hear the violins,
The pianos, nor even the swelling base,
But I felt it.
Oh, how I felt it.
She danced as though her heart might break,
As though the world might end,
Then picked up her bag and walked away.
The music went with her.
I listen for it still.
And gloss of snow,
Her skirts swept low.
Upon the bank
Her tears did stream,
But full of joy,
My perfect dream.
As waving tendrils
In lightest breeze,
Her hair did stir;
Brought to my knees.
That gentle girl,
She bowed to me,
A swaying beauty,
My willow tree.
A vision in magenta
With gloves of velvet touch,
She swept across the dance floor
To steal my imagination.
A thing of dreams made real
With locks of brunette curlicue,
She enraptured me.
If ever perfection was personified,
It was in she.
When she asked if I would escort her,
I thought it a prank.
Her winsome smile showed a lighter touch,
And I knew her true.
I was hers.
We danced, and twirled, and spun,
As the orchestra played, I know not what.
We dance there still in our hearts,
And we shall forever more.
This was inspired by some wise words by my good friend MichelleMarie. Please check out her always inspirational blog.
To see life
As only you can,
Not part of the plan,
But full of style,
An ocean of feeling,
A field of whorls.
To look past the rigid;
To look past the fixed,
And feel the colour,
Sense how all is mixed.
These are the portraits
Of my poetry,
Written with feeling,
And not just for me.
Of life, I was told.
That’s what it is
To strive to be bold.
Beads of water upon a single blade of grass
Diamonds upon an emerald rapier
It is all a question of perspective
A question of unlimited imagination
Over the accumulation of gain
Only you will know which it takes
To make your heart feel content
Amidst a roiling cobalt sky
A feather, white, did catch my eye,
Tumbling down from greatest height,
So unexpected, softest sight.
Against the dark of pure midnight,
I spied a something decked in light,
And though this all was in the past,
I’ll remember till my day the last.
For though I caught just briefest gleam,
I then knew angels were no dream.
Nightwings, I did call that sight,
As just one glimpse set heart alight.
But blink I did and heart did break
For winged angel did forsake.
She left me near that church alone
A million miles from my real home.
Wander still near oldest church
In cemetery dark, lined silver birch,
I shall until I see again
My nightwings though I know not when.