I love the early morning on dark rain pitter-patter days When the hours after will stretch out unspoken for When the choices of time are only mine The serenity of the cool pavement filled with water from sodden clouds Bursting at the seams to unburden themselves To share the sadness created, brought together from a thousand miles Clouds see a thousand sights, stretch slowly, stretch slow lee across the gray skies What do they see? Only tops of buildings, apex of trees trying to touch them Or do clouds fill themselves with the thoughts of those whose lives they cover and uncover Are clouds full of memories and is that why they rain?
Though I cannot touch your shirtsleeve, I reach out. You answer me, pull me close with softly written words. Soothe. Calm. We shield ourselves with flannel paragraphs, Hold life’s storms at bay, Understanding, no matter what our whethers, Friendship moors us in undeniable harbour.
At the intersection of what has always been and what might be,
A short teenage girl stretches tall, centre stage,
Her favourite blouse of red and white stripes complete with floppy bow
Distracts only slightly from her deliberately punc-tu-a-ted words,
Shared into a screechy mic atop the old oak podium.
Harsh amateur spotlight provides a momentary halo,
Trades her dark chestnut hair for light ashy blonde.
The change mimics her rehearsed act of defiance,
Trading natural, absolute shyness
For feigned, casual confidence.
A fledgling leader addressing her assembled, disheveled, constituents,
Before fifth bell dismisses classes for the day.
One rounded, one jagged.
Puzzle pieces never able to click-fit.
Don’t make trouble, I begged,
Never understanding she didn’t.
Her heart broken in shards, impossible to mend.
My wrists cut in bloody despair.
She salved, bandaged my wounds
Before fading from view.