Monday, November 26, 2012


Politicians laughed and the poets dreamed,
and our love was showcased like artwork in the Holocene.
I decided to reach out to you, across the Atlantic engorged in blue -
I have so many things I’d like to say
but hesitation has me waiting yet another day.
Writing out all my points to get across,
as I look at the neighbor’s windows turn to frost.
Sifting through all the rumors that were never true...
smoke clears the ashes of our past, us being one of a troubled few.
As your promise to me reflects a gilded hue, the only man I see is you.
Dense mystery cloaks the night as I lay in bed -
God, allow me to rest my tired head.
The grandfather clock casts its devious spell,
with every echoed chime, my prayers all turn to hell.
Our bed is made, the stars are crossed.
A revolution is brewing, babe, and you’re the boss.
Nerves strum across my fragile chest
as I feel his fingers add pressure on steel, cold frets.
Sleepless minutes morph into early morning hours,
he bows before me - I turn my heart away, walking the path of a faithless coward;
but maybe now is the time to shed my fear…“oh, not now, let’s wait another year.”
The inertia in my soul outweighs my desire;
a stick, a match…fire strikes - I watch my hope burn on a funeral pyre.
"Good Luck, Kiddo"
Photo by Skye Lyon. 2012.
Kaori Japanese Sushi Bar

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