Shadows

This work-a-day life
what does it mean?
what should it mean?

I glimpse shadows moving over verdant hills
wind blowing through the trees
stirring things up

and my soul stirs
a bit

I thought
at one point
that life would mean something more than this

When the thought of adulthood was
the shimmering goal

I don't often find myself running out to play
that is the real loss I think

Dream Catching

Short poem (somewhat) following Anapaestic structure.

My days are full, somehow I get lost, in all the noise
Turning tides follow, each passing hour, still poised
easier to stay moored, than break away, tied to the hope
of safety here, while my dreams drift, barely afloat
sometimes I see, each drifting dream, gleam and shine
I would catch them, if I could find the time

Star Dust Souls

Written by a friend...

To burn brighter and hotter than stars and suns,
even in the vastness that is devoid of warmth
is in of itself a beautiful thing

beauty somehow captured in the souls of mortal beings,
star dust made manifest...

Universe to universe,
soul to soul,
stardust to stardust.

Little Dreams

I feel a little sick this morning
upset stomach
new medication
for an old problem

The feeling is familiar
somehow
I feel nostalgia
and determination

Like I want to cry
but I have work to do
no time to coddle
an achy old remembrance

I can't help but dream
on days like this
all the little dreams
that most days I forget

Borrowed Time

Everyone lives and dies

we each learn to love

and that love evolves

imprinting beauty

and pain

remembered in moments of silence

silence

I expect it

living on borrowed time

as we do

distance

and circumstance

truth

may bring an end

or

beginning

Our World

Time stands still, in our world

our creation

We hide together

in our blanket fort, discussing

nothing really

You kiss me from time to time

sparking the flames

as we move to lay under the stars

There are no cares, no other world

wind blows through the trees, crickets chirp

and I press a kiss against your temple

down to the base of your neck

your pulsing heart

quickens my own

as we disappear

into our world

The Dark Room

There is a room

hidden

obscured behind

tangled branches

deep in the woods.

The door handle is slimy,

inside

lies and every imaginable fear.

Some creep out to haunt me,

if I'm not wary

they escape.

There is loss

and shame,

guarded by a stubborn version

of my pride

guarding my heart.

If I am honest

that room

is closer than I like to admit.