Sunday, May 25, 2008


I am the "me" of everyone
wishing on a shooting star
when night begets a dream
and I speak, speak, instantly
but too slow the star departs
and wishes trail dispirited
into the neighbour's yard.

They lie amongst the weeds
thirsty, thirsty, as can be
because no one waters weeds
when pretty flowers preen
and scatter silly wiles
to attract the honey bees.

And in the time of Autumn winds
that wish blows back again
changed, refined, befitted for
a bigger chunk of energy
from the “me” of everyone.

Easier and easier to huff, puff, and blow
and the wish exceeds the bounds
of the once possible
and it flies, flies, and glides
into the most amazing sky.

Sunset over Africa

You'll see it there at sunset
giving glows to every hue
and showing only part
of the intensity of heart
behind each and every cloud.

The seasons come and go,
sunsets always glow,
and clouds have silver linings
because wishes have the edge
on life’s everyday betrayal.

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