Thursday, October 28, 2010

Little Wonders of the World.

If I could piece together the wonders of the world,

you would be surprised to find

there would be more than seven

and they would be significantly


If I could piece together the wonders of the world,

I would match the tender jolt

when our eyes locked from across the street

and the way my fingers traced along

the lines of muscle and vein on your arm

when you tucked me in the corner

of your elbow.

I would stitch the sound of when

my ear found the deep lines of a cello

lying in the bottom of a symphony

and the car rides when I would watch

the raindrops race on my backseat window

until I was mesmerized to sleep.

I would fold the ache of when you walked out

the door and I missed you from five feet away

with the taste of my first sip of wine

when it hit my tongue like the feeling of tears

and warmth down inside heartsick

and young, young love.

I would trace the sky catching on fire

with the free-fall feeling of my first

roller coaster ride,

my heart popping out of my chest

with an exhilaration that told me

I'd found some passion in this life.

I would tangle the ache of sitting

two feet from you, trying not to

look into each other's eyes too long

with the way my childish fingers once

desperately wanted to touch the treasures

behind museum glass.

I would mesh the jump of my heart

when a baby smiles up at me and

the happy impatience to reach the end

of my favourite book,

knowing I like the way it goes.

I would melt the taste of deep, warm

chocolate in its ever-rich comfort

with the way it feels to walk through the front door

and snuggle in with the blinds closed tight,

until me and my blanket have amalgamated

into one dreamy pile.

I would tag the feel of my pen in my hand

and my desk chair rolling under my thoughts

with the wist of sitting on a park bench,

staring mindless and mindful,

as the stars practically fell out of the sky

above us.

But of all the little wonders of the world,

I would pair the quiet breath I felt you breathe

against me after that first slow kiss

and the moment your eyes brimmed with

bright, hot tears when you turned and

said that you loved me.

October 2010

Monday, October 25, 2010

Old Souls.

Sit me down on the long, low wall and

let me feel the lamplight find my eyes.

Talk to me, because I love to talk to you.

I love those little words you choose.

Slow me down on the long, cold sidewalk

and make me take a breath so I realize

who we are because of who we are.

You know I laugh because of you.

Lay me down on the damp night grass

and see if eyes or stars are the fairest sight.

Smile at me, because I love to smile at you.

Try to leave, but it's no use.

October 25, 2010

Tuesday, October 19, 2010

I'm lonely without you.

I think you might know;

I think you might inch up to my thoughts

every day just to peek over the rim.

I'm full-up with feelings

I nurture and smile at when

I have a second to think.

You press up against me

every day; you nudge me

and I feel my heart come up

to meet you.

You're with me,

in some form; ever-present

when I talk,

and sleep,

and eat,

and wonder.

You're here; right here,

the thought I enjoy

and the thought I suppress

to hide that I'd like to laugh,

or cry,

when I imagine if I

lean my head on your chest.

I think I feel you.

I know that I know you.

I'd like to be yours

when I meet you between

where our eyes meet

and what isn't forgotten;

a promise

we broke and decided.

My hair is long.

The cold creeps in

around again and tells me

of your arms

and warmth.

You're a long way off

and a long way gone,

but my heart thinks I'm yours.

I'd have to agree.


Friday, October 1, 2010

Fall Cleaning.

I stir my coffee with my finger,
the windows propped
three inches open.

Hello, my life.
The sweet, sweet rush
of leaves
dust fresh air off
the clouds.

It puffs and sweeps
into my room,
the catch-all for
October's lightness.

A dustpan
never felt so good.

October 1, 2010