Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Winter Morning

Leaves wave from the almost bare branches,
and though I am barely awake,
I am through with the day already.
The sky is a grey grimace,
glowering down at me,
giving attitude that I don’t deserve,
because we’re both getting going on a day that doesn’t promise us much.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Ever Present Changes

Flowers are fading as winter hangs in the air,
hot chocolate in her hands and a smug smile on her face.
Trees grasp to the last of their green glimmer,
glittering lover’s tears trickling down the solid branches as another departure is dragged out,
winter’s wicked grin towers grim over autumn’s last weeks,
watching the earth wither and die.
It’s okay.
Everything will return,
just as it always does,
if I wait,
I can be here to see it.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Inevitable Rain

The sun rose,
so I followed,
the sky, warm and welcoming,
before the clouds came.
The clouds always come,
and I am always surprised,
as if the sunrise cannot ever be a signal of something other than brightness.

The sun rose,
and I responded, with my usual enthusiasm and blind optimism,
running around myself to escape the inevitable rain,
but just like the clouds,
it found me.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

Follow The Skies

I let a little lightning leave my lair,
sprinkled across the air until the sky is high off my mischief.
She knows that I’ve been bound to break the rules,
with my chocolate button stare, that keeps me out of trouble,
and I have often suspected that she finds the whole idea quite seductive.

I break her out of the four walls she keeps finding herself lost in,
and we drink milkshakes as the rain settles into the arms of the lovesick sea.
Sometimes,
all you need is a little push in the right direction,
even if your compass is compromised, and you never learned to read a map,
you can find your way back to the path of your personal prophecy,
and when you’re there,
it feels so easy,
as if being lost was a child’s game that you played, even though you were too old to crouch behind shadows with screwed up eyes.

As we drained the shakes and saw the last of the sun,
I told her to follow the skies, next time.
My fingers buzzed and pulsed every second we were apart,
bursting with lightning as storms brewed in my chocolate button stare that had no choice but to become cyclones,
and the sky would always find a way to lift her from being lost,
settling her back down,
on the right track,
if I asked it nicely.