Pin Your Fancies To A Star.

"Why had she said that thing about the star? Why did dusk & fir-scent and the afterglow of autumnal sunsets make people say absurd things?”

"She turned her face upward to the sky between the swaying fir tops and he saw the reflection of a star in her eyes."

~ Lucy Maud Montgomery

I write.

Of the evening her fancies were pinned to a star dancing on the broken wisps of a sunset legion of clouds, (a star she would forever claim as their star) something-something changed the night he introduced it to her.

“Beetlejuice.”

“Oh, why really? Beetle-Juice?” She turned her eyes wonderingly up at him.

“I’m pretty sure. Except, I used to think it was pronounced Beetle-Gus… but they were like nope, its Beetle-Juice.” He gave a little laugh like he always did, whether what he said was particularly funny or not —she guessed that life just amused him. “Though, I’m not incredibly sure.. That could be the other one, Adep…”

“No,” She cut him off, “don’t look it up. That’s Beetle-Juice, I want to believe it. Now every time I see that star, I can say ‘Hello Beetle-Juice!’ because I know his name.” She gave a little satisfactory nod to the sky as she said this. It felt odd to be standing a little beside, a little in front of him like this… their shoulders close as they gazed together.

Again he laughed “Well, alright.”

The pink arrows of sunset fire across the sky were growing dimmer, while it drew on a more brooding, more true blue in the clouds around them. “Wait, but does Beetle-Juice stay there all the time? or does he move?”

“Well, by the next century he will have shifted to over there.” He pointed past her to a little patch in the sky where two stars dimly sparkled.

“Oh, okay. So in our lifetimes he’ll be right there. That’s good.” She smiled (or had she really ever stopped?), she liked to think Beetle-Juice would be trustworthy and stationary.

“This reminds me of a poem I read once… and the one part ‘Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.’ Isn’t it true? Isn’t it beautiful?” She turned to him and he nodded, his eyes smiling, dancing.

Her words stopped and a little silence started to settle, but not an uncomfortable silence for once. A car drove by- “What a romantic picture we must make right now…” she pondered, she felt like she was in a book somehow, and somehow it was quite as wonderful too. Quite.

“It’s a manta ray now. Do you see it?” He waved his hands at the sky outlining one dark cloud sprawling above the mountains.

“Oooh! Yes, I do! Definitely a manta ray, not an Octopus.”

“Hey, it did look like one before. The clouds have just flattened out!”

She gave a little laugh, “Uh, no. And anyways, it’s definitely on the verge of becoming a submarine soon.”

She described to him that glassy underwater adventurer she saw in the sky, and then he found a Cheshire cat smiling down on them, only by the time she recognized it— it was frowning… until it became a Loch-ness monster. And so they stood, drawing pictures in the sky— and pinning them there in permanence with stars of hopes and dreams.

If You Loved Me.

If it weren’t perfection you sought
I could give you imperfection, 
but in that imperfection
a world of possibilities and dreams

Among all the suitors
if you'd only let me be the one
my words the ones to woo your heart
my arms the ones to satisfy your cold

Oh darling, we’d grow old
hand in hand- heart in heart
tales would be told
of the couple that never were apart

If you loved me
the moon should be yours
and all the starry sky
and all the windy sea

If you loved me
I could offer at your feet
all the anthems sweet
of ancient loves and lovers
merry clandestines of yore

— december roses
would be your bed and throne
if love and sweet wishes
could only make them so

if only, if only
love, you could love me

Word Salad.

What a different world
we’d live in
if love were simple
if smiles were genuine
if the right words were said
if hearts cherished wisdom
if questions found answers
if duties were done
if tears were dried
if minds sought truth

------------

We learn little by little
what we never would have known

had we stayed content
blinded by what we liked
but restless still, always

we learn by experience
what we can never express
yet always feel

hearts change
habits mould
thoughts are established
ways conform
minds are blended

in little ways
big ways become

---------------

I toss my mind
back and forth

between the sane
and the insane

only seeking best

between joy and mirth
chastens and criticisms
yearnings and independence

oh fickle eyes
find a resting place
if you would
if only you could

---------------

Yet, for once in my life
joy is graspable.

no longer the wispy thing
there,
but intangible

now I feel it
I see it
I can describe it
and trace it’s pattern
through everyday
and every moment

it’s a sweet draught
I take now

Don't Forget To Fall In Love

If I were cupid
And sailing through the sky
I'd send an arrow through your heart
And to that arrow
I'd attatch a string
And with that string
I'd sew the world through
I'd pull it taunt
 And knot it tight

And so bind your heart
 To fairy flowers
To sweet red roses
And dew kissed Lillys

Sunrises and sunsets

Clear blue skies
And prancing clouds

To the robin's song
To the whipperwill's chant

And thus I would tie you irrevocably to all the beauties of the world

And were then my arrow a silver pencil made
My touch magic
And my ink blood red

With the passion of a poet
And the abandon of an artist

I would write across your being this simple appeal

"Oh darling, don't forget to fall in love."

A Quiet Sort Of Joy.

Words are never completely true, so please don’t believe this story I am about to tell you.

 She was the kind of girl who wore her soul just beyond her eyelids, like the ones who lift their face to the sky, eyes closed, and taste life that way. Life was forever an adventure for her, every new day, every new place an exotic new flavour that she would revel in. But the problem with this girl (A problem only in the eyes of those who could not understand.) was, unfortunately, she enjoyed alone.

 Her heart was always soaring, but none ever saw it, she never expressed the loud obnoxious laughter and voices of the other’s enjoyment. Hers was a peace and a calm and a laughter hidden just beyond her eyelids. And because her peers could not see it, they did not understand. She must be miserable, for she did not sing. She must be bored, for she did not talk. She must be sad, for she did not laugh. And, I suppose, among all the noise for enjoyment they surrounded themselves with, they missed her quiet smile, which only slightly reflected the dancing she felt inside.

 You see, sometimes the fullest hearts and the deepest joys are the ones just barely visible. Perhaps the quiet people are the ones who know best how to live.

Coffee Shop Dialogue.

"Mind if I sit here?"

He queried, already throwing his jacket carelessly on the back of the chair across from her. She glanced his way briefly and nodded. All the other tables in the small coffee shop were already crowded.

"Perhaps not exactly the colours of the rainbow, but the spirit of a rainbow." She was mumbling to herself in a low tone. A smiled leaked from his face a little as he sat down.

"Goodness, I wouldn't have come if I'd have known it would be this busy." her eyes flashed with annoyance as he spoke, "But, I just had to get out of the house and breath for goodness sake, you know?"

"Sure, I know." She said shortly.

He ordered a doughnut and then proceeded to pull out an obtrusively large pad of plain paper. "I.. I really hope I'm not bothering you."

She looked up, "Certainly not." (Though her expression implied otherwise.) She didn't take her eyes away immediately though. He was busy stirring his coffee, and somehow his hair fascinated her. All silky and reddish-gold, like her brother's had been.

"Have yooouu.. uhhh.. tried the vanilla creme doughnut?" She attempted awkwardly. He wondered if she really did much talking. "It's not on the menu yet, but they're serving it."

He grinned, "No, I haven't! I really don't come here much, so I wouldn't know. Should have ordered it! Maybe I will yet!"

"Mmmhm." And having nothing more to say she dropped her head again with an expression of the prevailing awkwardness she had felt in trying to make conversation. But he thought it was sweet, that she was sweet. Or perhaps it was just those precious freckles that sprinkled her nose and cheeks, they did rather give him the impression of little chocolate shavings in a candy shop.

He looked down at the sketch she was drawing. "I like it. I hope you don't mind. I do a little doodling myself."  He grinned again, evidently trying to make himself pleasant. He couldn't see her eyes smoldering darkly as she kept her head bent over her paper. "It's one of the simple pleasures of life, I believe. To just sit down at a piece of paper and almost mindlessly move the pencil. Like children! Ah, but they do know how to enjoy life. Why it..."

She snatched up her paper suddenly and her eye flashed in the reflection of his own. "For your information, Mr.. Mr.. .. For your information! I am not a child and I do not doodle and I happen to be insulted by your.. your.. loquaciousness!"

And the sweet thing and her precious freckles were out the door before the poor fellow had time to sneeze. "Gracious, now there's someone who can emphasize italics right into a sentence!" He sighed as he watched her little fedora-clad head out of sight through the window. He hated vanilla creme anyways.

Someday.

in the sleep of day

we call night

i used to gaze upon

les etoiles

comme de petits cristaux

my eyes were brighter then

as i dreamed

(always dreaming)

and a hope made me happy

the hope of someday

i used to dream of someday

like a sapphire cloud

just beyond the horizon

of all i could see today

someday was a strong hand

to hold me in the storm

someday was a laugh

dancing like leaves in the wind

someday was a home

a crackling fireplace

warm hearts reflecting

someday was everything i dreamed of

someday was a paradise

a million paradises

yet as the years trailed on

my someday's seemed to change

the someday of trailing silk

and wispy curls

wasn't enough

i wasted that day

wasted it

dreaming of another

somehow 'today' was never 'someday'

it was always yet to come

the someday of "will you?"

was spent on the hope of

someday "I do"

the someday of a baby's cry

was spent in the hope of

someday "mama"

'someday'..

the dream kept me alive

it brought me through the years

i knew

someday, somehow

my 'someday' would come

pitiful dreamer!

until i sat at this desk

the pencil

feebly holding

i had hopes of someday

until this moment

i dreamed

but the silver of my hair

the lines carved upon my face

tell me

someday passed me by

someday was yesterday

they mock me

the pills on my table

the walker that i need

they all mock me

"your someday's are gone

my dear

did you seek perfection?

you fool!"

the words echo in my heart

"someday"

as they always have

but the thrill that rings

through this aching body

is different

i have no someday's left

my 'someday' was yesterday

but i missed it