a stately tree forsook
the youthful whimsies that shook
it strongly
in the autumn wind
and lived a hundred years
and more, by the shore
of the river where it was planted
until a gale came
that finally made it bend
into an embrace of water:
there they were content to spend
(two wizened, conspiring friends)
the rest of winter
If I think of unanswered texts
like I do unanswered letters
then either the party is “Deceased”
or moved, “Return to Sender.”
Either way, your correspondence
(and your relationship)
is not appreciated.
thinking that my life
would be an ebb
and flow of seasons
so often I forget
it is one linear path
crisscrossing others
who have their own
we speak of movies
perhaps books we have read
friends we will meet
but when no longer face-to-face
even the questions cast off
their disguised
blunt edges
we riposte sly jabs at
another life we idealize
but abandon
when we see the cracks
the tipping point
the straw
on its own
is nonsensical
perhaps petty and childish
but how can you explain
the breakdown of a relationship
to one blind
before the last act?
youths dance the night away
enjoying moment to moment
but not realizing
most of their companions
are also temporary
there are those
who can never
take off their shells
but can still emerge
to be a good friend
Two sitting on a bench
watching the sunset
Some might mistake them for lovers
Yet, whether siblings or friends
Indeed, there is love
A vase on the table
A gift from a friend
Flowers for beauty
A nice gesture to send
Perhaps, I’m impolite
Few want to see you
cough out your life’s blood
and tell them you are
in pain
But I no longer care
For every fifty people
who ignore me
I’ll find one who lends me
a listening heart
A pair of open ears
heals a thousand
door slams.
RED GLADIOLA 