I just want to be a poem, To let my motions move you to speak, So you say my name in A thousand different ways, each word A drop of rain captured on pen tip In a spiral notebook I want my eyes to see you As you speak my language written In silver letters Across midnight skies, And you wake from the dream And the magic is so strong
For Lindy I’ve written this poem a thousand times in my head Before I ever put pen to paper. You see, there’s a part of me that’s not–not a lot– Just some flotsam discarded on a road long unguarded. I left Lindy by the wayside before I turned 25, And although I tried, I couldn’t stop looking Over-shoulder to see if she came after. She followed me home until I
They listened to the wind through the branches, wrapped arm in arm, alone and complete. Beyond the walls of the small weathered house, night creatures foraged for anything they could find, invisible owners of the desolate plains.
Smoke billows Ice clinks The clickity-clack of the Remington Like a train on the tracks Speeding into the next The ding signals the end Heels slip on And she is gone *** Amy Harrison is an artist who loves all things vintage and coffee. She currently resides in Colorado Springs with her husband, hound dog, and butler. (Full disclosure: the butler is a tuxedo cat.)
“Gimme Shelter” echoed across the lake as the spectators watched the event unfold. A wakeboarder launched into the air and curled in a perfect circular arch, straining to reach the unbounded sky just a kiss away.