Hot spring nights,
The world is flowers and pollen.
I walk down suburban streets and think of you.
I don’t know why my mind comes back,
Why you knowing me as I am is something I want to hold on to.
My thoughts jumble at the bottom of the bottle.
I wonder if I’ve had too much wine tonight.
Small children find a puddle on the pier.
“Come, look! There’s a rainbow!”
I look up, but clouds coat the horizon.
A small boy sits near a puddle,
And I know the rainbow he sees,
The soft colored sheen of what the cars have left behind on the sidewalk.
I realize he has the depth of this city measured,
Better than I do,
Than my lithology and my chemistry can tell me.
I should look through his eyes more often.
An Ode to the Impossible
I could write you,
A thousand love letters,
And it wouldn’t mean a thing.
Closed books and pressed roses,
Phone calls and that smile I know so well to mean butterflies.
There are so many things I wish for.
I have a talent for finding the impossible.
Silly Little Love Song
This is my silly little love song,
To the smell of the leaves in the air,
To the sunshine,
To the gold in my hair,
To the electric tumble of springtime,
To the feeling that there is something on the horizon to look forward to.
This is my ode to you.