Weathering the Storm

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There’s a deep black cloud approaching.
I see it in the distance
and hear its discontented grumbles
fracturing this golden day.

Its rages may hurt us,
It’s wild winds rip at our hearts,
but yet, we’ll cling to the debris
and watch for the rainbow.

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The Book

Golden filigree font idly patterns the skin
that embraces the pages
as softly as a mother

Translucent, moon coloured, pages
littered with emotion.
And mystery.

Pliable, soft to the touch pages.
Turning silently, seducing
quiet contemplation

And oh, the end!  The end!
That final page,
that final turn,
triumphantly heralding
the sadness of a friendship finished.

 

Some Day

Whenever a papery butterfly
alights on a sweet scented bloom,
a rainbow arcs over the desert,
and there’s a smile on the face of the moon.

When the tiger bee sips from the chalice
of a perfectly formed daffodil,
spring instantly turns into summer,
and the sea becomes perfectly still.

When the gentle dove glides over rivers
that mirror his wings like a twin,
the rattle of guns promptly ceases,
and real peace will surely begin.