Secretly bending glimpses,
my eyes and desire align
in tortuous agreement –
reflections of you
are not enough
Drew Barrie;
to insulate my heart
from the cleft between us.
Perennials, the color of
periwinkle,
the smell of rain
and crayons
return you to me,
lend presence, a vestige,
to remember
the gift of you,
and fortify my resolve
to one day reunite.
Numbness and ache,
lavish tears set
against the
unimpeachable light,
the dream in your eyes
unequivocally green
each blink evokes hope,
found in
the blushing smile -
little one,
I observe in quiet
adoration, amid
our segregation,
ardor undiminished,
prayers give permenance
uttered in the pause
within each
drawn breath;
ephemeral visions, alive,
like ballads and rhyme
memories aflame, occupy
a sacred place,
my interior; profoundly
savored
never to erase.
Searching for treasure,
collecting prized sand
and stone,
your pockets, heavy
with plunder.
Somber tones fill
the gaps of our history
finding new contrast,
certain hues
oscillating shades of gray
stirring cues
and dearth of winter blue.
Trees, bare and lonely
in the crisp boreal air
of February
moisture, absent
like a father's
words; laconic
after
her irreducible gaze
in the
opaque imagination.
Oddly, the arid season,
of aloof precipitation,
the will of the wind
indefatigable,
euphony - sound unfiltered,
allowing me to grieve,
another year - gone.
Nervous Squirrels, sedentary
and quiet,
as if to mourn with me,
I miss my daughter.
The spring equinox,
poised with
symmetry, warmth,
elucidating
the approaching day
of your birth.
Collateral emptiness,
accompanied
penurious notions of
grandeur
compared to
the day you
infiltrated our sphere.
Stunning you were,
your prominent
entry into creation,
tiny noises,
nestled and snug.
You are here,
equipped with an
absorbing mind,
wrapped,
perfectly
designed, in a petite
fashioned frame.
Emotions, elastic -
diffuse and Compress,
in distance, friction
attenuates,
time and eternity
extend to the periphery,
agony
absorbed into Zoe.
Grace and peace wash
ashore, rinsing
as poetry;
cleansing with surprise
and vigor
recall the loftiest
of tokens.
I too
encountered
an esteemed rock,
smooth and orbed
summoning
long thoughts,
(my)citadel made
of three,
uniquely ensconced
inside -
priceless gems,
that sustain me.
Enclaves of privilege
possessing vacant
mirrors,
until notes and
words gather to form
your story,
the world shifts,
altered anew.
Minor resurrection,
simile to
our reconciliation
visceral and singular,
teardrops of euphoria
resemble waters
of an April freshet
In the lavender garden.
©2012 W.S. Warner
