The children amble to the roadside
One after the other
United in their reluctance.
The sun not yet on the horizon.
Their fall coats too light
For the cool breath of wind.
Across the road
The old brick house stands dreaming.
The bats slowly return to the attic.
For the light along the roadside
The warmth within
The long drive
To a room full of screaming children.
The cicadas sing
As the sun
Dips below the treeline.
Even the wolves wait;
We found a blanket
Hidden in a
Trunk in the attic.
In the clearing
The dying day.
The young girl stands at the crossroad.
She arrives every morning with the sun.
The shy farmers nod on their way to the fields.
Their hearts falter when,
Too early they arrive.
The sun not yet touching the horizon.
She is gone before their weary journey home.
Her memory, but a distant childhood dream;
Of the open world and the mystery of love.
For her part she waits for someone
Who lost her way.
Gone too soon
Taking the wrong path.
She will return; Heart weary or wise.
The two are one.
So she waits.
Long enough to feel the sun’s rays ‘
Warm her face.
She must go on;
The day must be survived.
The wind whispers;
I honour you with my determination;
No minute lost.
I dream the world is fulfilled;
We push beyond the borders;
Marked with the lines on the map
Adorn the palace
Seeking their centre
On a solid palm.
Love’s embrace is forgotten
My mother left when I was three
I remember her at the front door
Surrounded by the winter coats
The National Geographic magazines on the shelf framed her;
Telling my father
She wouldn’t stay.
Her fear and determination
Echoed in my ears
As I looked through
Tousled hair, half awake-
He dies then.
I only realize that later.