Once Upon an April

To open

Partially eclipsed

The light at the end

Of the tunnel

Darkened by

A shadow

Snow falls thickly

Like rain, freely

Thankful for my

Warm jacket

Mountains white

The sun has become

A crescent moon

Bright

Things I almost remember

Not again in twenty years

Once upon an April

Nostalgia Park

june 2017.

there was a little playground

with wooden ladders and bridges

and a plastic purple dinosaur.

one big twisted slide, and woodchips matted with age,

and sun-worn giggles and the wind and the open sky

and the older kids sitting to the side

pretending like they did not miss the old playground’s soul.

summer knows the weight of simple joys.

june 2019.

there was a little playground

with cracks in the wood planks

and a tailless dinosaur.

one intact swing, and empty dirt patches,

and newly made games and childish danger and the open sky

and the parents sitting to the side

pretending like they did not worry for the playground’s soul.

summer knows the weight of simple risks.

june 2021. 

there was a little playground

having been taken by the storm

(no dinosaur left to speak of.)

one little staircase, and a collapsed rock wall,

and a slide in four pieces and fits of crying and the open sky

and the neighbors sitting to the side

pretending like they could salvage the poor playground’s soul.

summer knows the weight of early heartbreaks.

june 2023.

there was a big playground

with sleek tunnels and boardwalks

and a pricey plastic car.

six twisty slides, and a bouncy rubber floor,

and shrieks of joy and the wind and the open sky

and the older kids sitting to the side

pretending like they did not miss the old playground’s soul.

summer knows the weight of saying goodbye.

It feels like a memory

Out of reach

Something that could never happen

Frozen in ice of time

Taunting me

Why did I lose it?

I should have been careful

Very careful

Or I will be dragged

To the endless bottom

Of this ocean

Oh,

What went wrong?

Was it something I said?

Or is it just me

It feels like a memory

Although

It still stands

Not in my reach

Out of the heavens

Or the depths of earth? 

Smile lines

On your eyes

Sunshine and butterflies

—That's the way it's been—

All your life.

Shadow,

I'm willow,

Weepy-eyed and

Gaze low

Dragged feet, pace slow

And Daisy

They say you've passed your A+ days

Outlived your heyday,

And maybe

You're still stuck in a daydream

'Cause you're slowly sinking, wasting

Crumbling like pastries 

And they scream,

The worst things in life come free to us.

You see, we're all

Under the upper hand

And come back for a couple crumbs 

It's too late to turn around

And pave a way out,

Isn't that right? 

black-out poem

~~~~~

I'm sorry for blotting

Out your words;

For taking the pages

You've poured your soul into

And twisting them

To fit my definitions.

Clipping letters

And tenses

Off 

So that they can never

Take flight

Again

For scribbling over

Your heart incarnate;

Your outlet, your avatar.

Maybe you'd believe

You weren't worth anything

If you saw what I've done.

I'm sorry,

but this is

my story

now. 

Curves

flow off your frame

like waves,

your hair feathery and angelic

and suddenly I see

why sailor's fall

for the allure

of a siren's song,

for an image verbalised

of true beauty.

I fear the potency

of that beauty.

How you might notice

the power you wield

and turn it against the world —

for it has not been kind to you.

I fear someday

that I will not be able

to resist the charm you radiate,

the charisma you drip.

I fear one day

you will find something

more than me,

but even more that you will find

something even more beautiful inside of me.

Truly, you frighten me. 

There's a certain slant of light

that takes me off-guard,

Sends me back to a simpler time —

A time when the castles hadn't yet crumbled,

and fantastic creatures still roamed free.

There's a certain slant of light

that haunts me in the morning's gleam

Past winter steeples and frozen air;

something that promises that

not all is as it seems.

There's a certain slant of light

that soaks into my core.

Golden edges cauterise my scarlets

And hold back silent whisper that would say

Everything will be okay.