It was a three year-old’s eyes through which I first saw you. I noticed myself as we two looked back. Why was I, I’d wondered, the only one asking why. Then I saw you, dancing with the what, not caring for the why. You were, weren’t you. You, seeing me struggle with what words, spoke to me the only way you could. Silently. I’ve grown old and ill from asking why, I know. They say we can be healed, that the truth sets us free. What truth can you tell to a three year-old child that she already doesn’t see.
The Actual Eternal
A damned good author
Who’ll debate with me well
Yet write lies
Conceived in etherless light reflective
Of darkness and wars neither worth it
Nor won
I’m this fantastic, fantasy-filled flower
Facing somewhere true
Journeying along the narrow path
That bends across the expanse of time
Evergreen, it’s said, and analog
Evidenced by The Actual Eternal
Sorry No Metaphors
I wanted what we said
Let me be honest
More than what we’d made
Our bed as traitors
I wanted to live in a way
Let truth to have its day
More than to make others happy
Our shiny, tidy lie
Time Machine
There is one hour in time
In the whole wide span of human history
One
I’d ever wished to collapse into
To behold
To hold
I needed to
And it has passed
The New Yellow: A Haiku
It is a coward
A coward who will do this
Not this, rather that 
It is a coward
A coward who will do this
Not this, rather that
Some Saturday
We’ll sit together, child
Should God give us time
To ask the Eastern light,
“Where have you been all these hours?”
To watch the Western sky
Blush on its behalf
We’ll struggle no more, child
Please God, give us time
With the why of why not
About the words we can’t use
‘less they begin and end
With the loveliest shade of love
The Consequences of Smiling
The Consequences of Smiling
by Lisa
You’ll always look four and twelve
Eighty even, but not forty at all
Kids will look at you funny for a minute
Then run to you
They’ll want to stay
Real adults won’t take you seriously
So beware
The eyes begin to go
Wrinkles at the corners
Nearsightedness -the good kind of myopia
You’ll see the treasure too
The up-close
The forest for the trees
Your own awe-struck stare at dawn
Your face will stay that way
Muscle memory (Mom was right)
You’ll be the light
In someone’s lousy day
On your own hard days
You’ll see your smile too
Its asymmetry…its perseverance
Smiles are feathers
Warmth for mind, body and soul
Insulation from frowns
Lift for the wings
Yours and theirs
Rainbow-colored plumage for this place
Smiles, like feathers that tickle
The Season of Fall
Before, we were The People
We wanted something closer to perfection
We’d die for our unity
Now We just want a break from it all
And a beer
Before, we knew to walk
We paid the price, the Cost of the thing
We’d spill our blood for posterity
Now The People talk nonstop
And ideas die
Hen House
If you felt in your beautiful bones
Your sister’s despair
How it’s crushed her own bones
Would you run to her, or from her?
Would you dress up pretty
Invite her out to play
To only creep slyly at night
Or instead to dance boldly at rush hour?
20 Years: A Haiku
I did not survive
To say I did not survive
Yes, I did survive
LisaRosier.com 