A second day of spring sunshine, the wind is wild and balmy
Wispy clouds sweep across the pale blue sky
Bright green shoots in the garden
The heads of white blossoms newly open hang on delicate necks bobbing in the breeze
The phone rings
Half an hour ago you went on ahead
The sun shines and the wind blows and the little white heads bob up and down on those impossibly delicate necks.
Quietly
I would like to sing with great passion
In tones of dusky blue
My voice would show the life gone by and the sorrow we pass through
There are great joys as well to tell and those would be there too
Smoke would ring around the notes and mingle in the sound
The words and notes would strike a chord in all our memories found
The spotlight finds the common note that in us all reside
The dark beyond the stage of life is where those memories hide
I would like to sing ringing out the song of life open wide
Quietly
I would like to sing with great passion
In tones of dusky blue
The lines of a face reflect the life that lies within. The time has scored its passage and once having writ can not be erased. The light betrays the passage. Loss of innocence is merely life experience. Does it have to hurt so much?
Orange and blue combs, the sky is pink. Black onion through and through. The ocean is falling, steel rise to the sky. Marionette pulls the strings with round fat ball men floating lightly in the dirt. Little did we know that purple second rising in the mist. Gone, gone we are all gone.The dog cried olly olly oxen free in the twilight gloaming.
His first wife had left him. He had never seen it coming and was only aware of her reasons in a vague sort of way. He had remarried, a woman a little older than him. His wife had been raised by a single mother who could not always be present because of the job required to raise her children but had shown her love and kept her presence constant with hearty casseroles and home baked cookies and pies. His second wife brought this to their marriage. He would often complain that her cooking made him fat but he continued to fill himself up with the food that was the physical manifestation of her love for him. Every night before she went to bed she would pack him his lunch so that it would be waiting there for him when he got up at 5am to head off to work. He occassionly told her that he didn’t expect it and that she didn’t have to do it but on a rare morning when she had forgotten to put something together, he crept into their bedroom in the predawn darkness to wake her up and tentatively ask " Is everything okay?", "Are you mad at me?"… but what he really meant, what he really was asking was " Do you still love me?", " Did I do something wrong like I did the first time, please tell me because I still don’t understand?" , " Are you going to leave me too?".
"I’ll get up", she said with a yawn, she had settled into the warm spot he had left as soon as he got out of the bed, "I just forgot".
"No, no" he said, "I was just wondering if everything was okay". In his head he knew, as he watched her nestle deeper under the blankets, that it was okay but in his heart he still wondered.
