Stephanie

I still remember Stephanie,
The music of her hands —
The lyric autumn reverie,
The eyes apart from coterie,
That far horizons scanned

In Stephanie, the day stood still.
The seasons passed beyond her will,
And life was brief, but sweet —
The short years she was here with us:
One up- and one downbeat

Then Stephanie, my sober friend –
She let go of the fragile cord
That kept her holy essence penned,
And found her Springtime, in the end.
Her loving life restored —
Her aching spirit
Soared

Supposed to Be

Between what is and what should have been.

The way that it’s supposed to be,
We’d be out there together;
We’d watch watch her grow concurrently,
Then loose her from the tether that is us.

That’s “we”, not “me” and “you”:
A family’s what we had,
But now, that’s all a memory,
That went from good to bad —

You took my hand and I took yours.
We loved behind these folding doors
We’ve folded up and stored away –
For there’s nothing to hide now

I see you in our daughter’s eyes:
I do not think you realize
That she still holds out hope for us
That you have smashed to pieces —

The way that it’s supposed to be
I’m here for you, you’re here for me;
But there’s no “here” where we can meet,
Your smash-and-grab job’s quite complete

You lost respect for me and so

There’s nowhere left for love to go

No ground left to find empathy

The way that it’s

Supposed

To

Be

Chance

A lot can happen in a moment

By chance, he saw her on the street
And flashes of a different time
When she was all, and everything,
Were seared upon his mind

In pink and pearls upon their bed,
Her blonde hair strewn around her head –
Then saw the street that he was on:
For she, just like their chance,
Was gone

The Lion In The Other Room

Not a child anymore
Not his child any less
Struggling to bring together
Remnants of this scattered mess

Left behind, the days of trembling
The fear of impending doom
Ears pricked up to hear the roaring
From what’s in the other room

Ruled the pride here, so well named,
Presence felt when absence there
Straggled off alone, ashamed
Returned, now – not to hear him swear –

But to see his golden carcass
Stretched across a linen span:
Once the lion, so regarded,
Now a feeble
Broken
Man

Our Bit

Outlandish as the summer sea
That found us at this time and place,
We lived our bit of fantasy
And ran our bit of race.

For day on day and skin on skin,
We breathed in time the message in:
To ride the moments as they fly
For just like summer days,
They die

The Pines

Among the pines we walked; we were in love –
The sun was streaming through the boughs above –
Our hands were clasped together by our sides
Out in the place where happiness resides

And even breathing did intoxicate
Us, stopping constantly, to share a kiss;
The moments between moments seemed so great –
The shining sun looked down on all of this

Just peeking through the pines to see us there –
Two soon-doomed lovers, as he knew we were:
So thoughtlessly we wandered, me and her,
Two lovers in the morning forest air

And though, this sonnet now, I may enshrine:
He pines the most, who lives but to repine


 
(“The Pines” – 7-21-2015)

Unemployment, Divorce & Hubris

His marriage wasn’t what he was about.

When she left him, he didn’t care too much:
His marriage wasn’t what he was about.
Instead, there was his working life. And such
Was all the weight he placed there, beyond doubt.

But then he got laid off out of the blue,
And found himself detached, alone, uncheered:
For suddenly, the purpose that he knew
And lived for all his life – had disappeared.

And he thought back to her, not for her faults,
But for the way he looked at her lost state;
He’d called her lazy, treating wounds with salts —
Not knowing how Injustice leads to Fate.

What he placed in the oven, then, to bake?
A meal of which he’s now must needs partake