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About This Author
A changeling spirit,
constantly evolving,
revolving around an inner core,
spinning forth legend and lore,
stories and lives
as I come to grips
with who and what I am,
have been and may be.
I am a phoenix:
rising ever above and beyond!
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So Simple So simple, really
The rainbow entangled
in your eyes explodes
raining jelly-belly candies across the bed.
You laugh
and our white puppy turns colors
from damp jellybeans.
I see you hunched over your desk
Looking older than your years.
I hand you a cup of coffee, offer
A backscratch. You sigh.
My fingernails catch all the itchy skitters.
You smile and time
slides down to puddle on the floor.
We take the bike out for a ride.
Snugged in close we pitch
and sway around the curves,
I wish I'd worn a warmer jacket.
We stop for lunch in Hell.
Laughing at old, worn jokes
as if they were new,
we ate our hamburgers rare.
We meander the forest seeking
game trails and I am lost.
You look at me with that crinkly-eyed smile
and say, be a deer. I look with
hollow eyes and find the path.
The moon, pale orange orb,
rises as we wander.
Hunter’s moon you say and I run ahead.
I slip on fallen autumn:
a leaf fight ensues.
We are red and golden.
Trailing leaves we wend our way home.
Our Bichon meets us at the door on hind legs,
paws high fiving air.
She has chewed holes in your new socks.
You untangle a scarlet leaf from my hair
saying, Let’s save this one.
Mugs of coffee in hand we sit watching
the pup chase lightning bugs.
Venison steaks sizzle, dusk darkens to night.
Your hand warm in mine we speak
yet never say a word.
The pup jumps in my lap and we three
watch star-angels come out and play.
I tell you stories of constellations;
You tell me I have stars in my eyes.
We talk of twenty years past
when we parted under the heavy burden
of new divorces and young children.
Tomorrow the grandkids
will all be playing together.
You head off to work some new wonder with wood
and I to write a poem.
We share ideas as both our projects take shape.
We plan, devise and strategize and measure-
taking ideas apart and reworking them.
Your's a curio cabinet
for a granddaughter’s birthday,
mine to be a poem about bliss
that hadn’t come together yet.
Write about today, you say.
I smile.
So simple, really.
It all comes down
to bliss.
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© Copyright 2006 Fyn-elf (fyndorian at Writing.Com).
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