What book are you reading right now?
Right now, and for the last far-too-many years, I am reading an always-closed book. A tragedy.
The world
At one time
At once
Crashed
The past, the future
The then-present, then became
A thousand-mile debris field
The Colorado mountains to the Great Lakes
A stretch all afire
Nebraska knows why
Sit
Stay
Fight out a battle no one ever wins
Lose young years you’ll not get back
Give
Grovel
Hope the other’s heart will hear
Find months of lessons learned
Be
Banter
Bargain — if you must — but make joy
Allow these precious days
Comfort and Time
Let us live barefoot
Neglecting not our skin and faith ‘gainst vintage hardwood paths
Morning to morning
Dutiful with the truth of time yet careless of its grip
Feeling our steps’ worth
Determined to flee concrete trails that fail and lead awry
Water and earth shift
Considering doubt, yet days are short — Heav’n asks that we walk
Original Thought Credit: “Look closely, then, how you walk…making the most of time….” — Ephesians 5:15
These are tender days
Savor, now, what frees shadows
Bravery, breath, time
Would the knave or the knife or whatever this pain be
Would usurp someplace else than the wound ‘twas left in me
Would that I have the chance with the welded tines of time
Would not I, having danced, not unspeak love’s blue-eyed rhyme?
From time to time
I go looking
For a wrench
To throw
At me
To break
My heart
For a reminder
I go looking
From time time to time
Leggy
Considering going dancing
And, cannot care whether the two-step is solo
Reminiscent
Keeper…giver…wayfarer
A better time…a good time…now is the time
Blooming
Stationary, unwary, worthy
Holding all manner of good secrets to share
Old
Habitual, rote faithfulness
Adherent to rotational, gravitational patterns
Latchkey Love
Learned avoidance, practiced to perfection
Like clockwork, the thrill won’t work
Time, you are becoming
Old
Sonny, (I can call you that because I’ve grey and am much older than you)
You don’t look like a man who’dve (proper grammar? I surely don’t care)
Said what you said (but you said it, and it stole my heart)
In Chapter 25 (chapter twenty-five., to be precise)
Or even a man who’dve been able to “focus” this long (though you lay claim to seeing its virtue, so I’ll believe you)
Given the amount of time (I’ve spent more than my fair share of it and secretly believe it’s ubiquitous)
And number of exhalations I know (I know) it took away
From your habitual daydreaming (I’ve a penchant for it, too)
I could (sadly, I will) continue sharing unrequited love-jabs here
But it’s late and the (glorious, but damned) mosquitoes have made their entrance
So I laugh (always — most often at myself), and tuck your bookmark (thanks) in my bra strap (ha) instead of your book (your book, bravo) and go inside for the night (and, how dare you quote Whitman?!)
Goodnight (goodnight)
Do you think back on which days were warm
It was eternally morning
No clock messing with you
11:11am, all the time
Arms overhead
Clear head
Carefree
What’s with all the ice, now, too early to the party
All the shutdowns
All roads some surprise mess
5:55pm, and always grey
Sunrise, where are you
Please rise
Sun
LisaRosier.com 