Category: Twitter Poems

How long will the sun linger
on the low edge of winters
western sky,
and how far will its shadow
reach across the iris
of my eye,
and how long will I stay
within the sound of its
lonesome cry.

They wrestle each other
and jump over the couch
and run up and down the stairs
as boisterous as boys will be;
then they whisper names
and tell girlfriend stories,
deep secrets for their
eight-year-old ears only.

In the long hours
trailing the waning moon,
sleep falls heavy on
my eyelids and I move
too slow to avoid
the trajectory
of shooting stars.

The two boys, cousins
at seven and eight years,
best of friends, embarking
on the flight of a lifetime,
opening the doors on the sky,
flying high above the earth
with eyes wide open and
dreams born in the excitement.

To you, may peace and love abound
As the slow days unfold
As the clouds uncover the sky
And the stories to be told.

There, but his quiet shadow,
Where once his eyes and smile
Said everything about you
His bold and faithful child.

I have known him forever
He has ridden by my side
I never shall believe in
The day they said he died.

The flame burns to ash
Bone, smile and heart,
Scatters them like spirit
That lightens up the dark

Upon his dying head
I shall place a kiss
And a rose just to say
All his days shall I miss.

To his graveside
I shall make my way
There I’ll weep a tear
Upon the mounded clay

When the fire begins
to fade to ash and embers,
the frosted air of winter
finds its way in through
the gaps beneath the door
and around the ill-fitting
windows; but keeping
the flame alive, all our
winters are kept at bay.