Song of Smiles

They smiled at me, tonight,

like they knew me . . . 

They smiled at me tonight. 

They smiled at me, tonight,

glad to see me . . . 

They smiled at me tonight. 

They smiled at me, tonight,

like I mattered . . . 

They smiled at me tonight. 

They smiled at me, tonight,

like I'm part  . . . 

They smiled at me tonight. 

I glowed inside when they smiled at me. 

I'll sleep well tonight.

Written December, 2011

For Love of Song

Too loud! 
Pain etches itself
upon the master's face --
sudden, odious 
fall from grace . . . 
But eyes, arise --
lest song meet its demise! 
Before you awaits
same phrase on same beat: 
Quickly -- softly -- in time --
repeat!

Rhapsody

Morning silence 
Music of its own 
Rhapsody of thought
as clock ticks
serene
time filling the space
inside and out
connecting
words
to prayer
to trees
to clouds,
ascending.

Crescendo

Light
seeping through
morning gray . . .
slow, steady crescendo
bursting bright,
symphonic sight
played yellow-white.

Night Light

So little dawn,
so much night,
highway gleaming
black and white;
lane markers -- friends,
headlights -- the sun,
music -- sweet shoulder
to youth on the run;
strangers -- the kindest,
weak friends -- the worst
for a being in flight
from obsession's curse.

White Heat

A fire like no other: 
the blazing will to survive. 
Kick it, crush it, pummel it --
it will rise to stay alive. 
Silence it, delay it,
and you'll think you've won the war;
but you've only won the battle --
a survivor wants much more.

Waning

Hope
feels so very thin, today,
like a coat whose sleeves
don't reach all the way,
or a dress whose hem
is beginning to fray . . . 
the deep dark falls early, 
and light cannot stay.

Keepsake

Rain to drink,
fresh air to breathe,
daylight and moonlight
morning and eve --
moment of freedom,
restraint's reprieve: 
now. 
Weathered humanity
slumbers and wakes:  
giver gives,
taker takes;
yet, freed man waits . . .
waits for a welcome,
for some realization -- 
his freedom a miracle
with no celebration; 
loss of years lost
to anyone's consideration,
grief resigned to
incarceration. 
Ten years free,
twenty years free,
and still, he wonders,
wistfully: 
When do the bars
come off?

Caring for My Fictions

Writing about Lady,
I accidentally devastated myself. 
Broke my heart, she did (!) --
and I couldn't bear to look upon her,
heart crushed and crumbling,
in her silken gown,
alone. 
Lady, Lady, he will come --
if not now,
then a little bit later,
Lady --
just a little bit later.