If you’re trekking alone in the dark
The train station within sight
Hope of home in your heart
Schedule unknown but hoping you won’t be late
Those obstacles in the meantime?
The throngs of strangers
The loved One who neither noticed you’re gone, nor cares whether you’ll ever return
A nearly dead battery and bank balance
Yesterday tethered around your ankles
Take comfort, you are seen
Someday, in 20/20 hindsight, find
A candle shone in some window
That beautiful soul, burned for you
The train leaves sharp at 11:11pm
You are loved far greater than you think
Now run, freely
And step lively


Unravelings rambled undetected amongst the two us
Made their way to a place in our hearts that our brains didn’t know to protest
You, now gone, as a breeze
I, here, in the still
Grasping devotion I do set free
Blameless, we
For the loving words we uttered
For the promises we made
Unaware of translucent thorns wafting betwixt our souls
We sit, as a cat
In this window, affected
Uncontrollably
What’s been in our window’s way, I don’t know
How many promising nights did we wait
Sun gracing each season’s skies through the years
That’s what they claimed all those arduous days
But our eyes didn’t see
What our skin didn’t feel
Now comes the end, so the calendar sings
Belt it out here, with me
Not a song that tells you you’ve got to go home
Instead check the window sign
You’re not alone
Deciding this morning whether
To be afraid for our weather
For this Earth
For its Underlings
I noticed triumph
Its and Theirs
I saw green, cold tears
Gladness!
There was little left to do
Open wide the window
Cry out
Three cheers for a cold victory!
Thank you for this window now,
Of thin and vintage time.
The safehouse to set a spell,
The anchored birch, my lean-to.
That I’d be reminded
In these gusty days
There is still
The reaching skyward
And strength to see it.
Bad, bad wisdom
Borrowed initially while window browsing
Then purchased at too high a price
Only to learn it’s all lies
Disinformation
Fast and loose
First hustling Saturday morning cereal
Now each night seeking votes and souls
(Photo Credit: Tiger R., age 9)
The windows open.
All night. The moon stakes its claim.
Not a sound. Not one.
There’s a wilder love
Than one could dream possible
With a feral soul
