Poem #348 My Dream I watched you sit at the table every morning picking apart your favorite French pastry and drinking cups of coffee as we listened to old records, Foggy from sleep when the light comes in through the cracks to kiss your eyelids and greets you with sweet scents of flowers or cologne or honey, I sat at your bedside when the moon walked in the room on harp strings and the singer stole our last threads of consciousness, Bewildered, I tried to escape and came back to your bed in a hazy state like a bee comes back to the hive in wintertime, I scribbled endlessly, the quotes in a red notebook like a monk, clinging tirelessly to an old book, Remembering thousands of verses and psalms like they would never be remembered, In the springtime, I saw the roses and orchids bloom when you walked through the garden With water in one hand and fire in the other, Calm and serene, the wind blew the grass beneath my feet, I shook for a moment and released. My muscles tighten. I watched you pick yourself apart like a crow does its dying prey, And yours too when the liquor fell out of my blood, into the road and ran off to die in the gutter, I tried to see when the acid rain tears fell from our skies and carried off the last remaining memories of home, When the words flew out of my mouth and dropped to the floor and rolled away til there was no where to roam And you collected them, and gave them back to me. Like gifts. Each one sparkling and gold. It has been written and wrote. Because, I love your soul.
Posted on: Mon, 06 Oct 2014 05:59:33 +0000
Trending Topics
Recently Viewed Topics
© 2015