Summer Rose

Our friendship had once blossomed fair.
A summer rose whose petals shone.
More beauty that the world has known
Was hidden in the wonders there.
Our shaky roots had taken care
To brake through soil and stone
And on the majesty unknown
My eyes would rest as I would stare

But with the summer roses leave
Their petals fall and die
Till all you find is prickly thorns
That cut through skin and sleeve
I realized with a tear and sigh
My heart and hands were torn.

Unnamed

What is this feeling? When I look
Into your dark eyes and feel myself
Drowning in something unknown.
Like a swimmer caught in the
Undertow, what pulls me is
Unseen yet it is there.
I cannot ignore the way my
Insides quiver when you smile,
Or that my eyes light up when
You look my way in a crowd.
It’s more than the butterflies
In my stomach when your
Arms lift me off the ground,
Or the emotional rollercoaster
Thoughts of you send me on.
It’s something unrecognizable,
Unnamed. I do not know if it is love.
I only know I have no
Ability or wish to control it.

Beneath the Bed

The space under my bed has a dry feel.
Smells of dust you can taste in the air
Prickles at my nose and eyes
Items accumulated over the years,
Reaching back I find a box,
Old and worn, I once bought the shoes in it.
The lid covered in dust bulges a little,
The contents near to overflowing.
I blow at dust, open, and look.

Inside are envelopes with edges
Worn and tearing open.
Full of letters, cards, or little notes.
Some tattered, some quite recent.
A twelfth birthday card, a sister’s apology
Letters from my cousins written at age ten
Hearts on American Girl stationary.
Yearly girl’s camp letters from parents, leaders.
I read them sitting on the floor.
Remember the love I felt
The first time I read the worn papers.

The box back in the darkness
Clean lid still bulging
But I can’t clean it out.
The space under my bed is full
Of moments, laughter, tears, and faces.
Faces of people who loved and still love me.
In the dust I can take on the world.

Sleep

The teacher talks in class
I’m hoping that I’ll pass
My eyes begin to ache
Can’t seem to stay awake
I think I need more sleep

I’m sitting on my bed
With half my homework read
My head begins to nod
I feel a little odd
I think I need more sleep

When exiting the shower
I find it’s been an hour
I must have caught a wink
At least I will not stink
I think I need more sleep


Last week I caught a cold
It’s gotten kind of old
I cough and sneeze and cough
Can’t seem to turn them off
I think I need more sleep

There seems to be a trend
That doesn’t have an end
It’s something that I lack
I think I’ll hit the sack
And finally get more sleep

For Aussie

When I visit home I still half expect
You to come uncontrollably, your tail whipping
Around the corner.
But I don’t hear your running.
You don’t keep my company
In your corner by the door,
Your head propped on the step, watching me.

I had once watched you that way,
Leaning against the fencing
That surrounded you, sleeping
On top of your brothers,
You were the runt of the group
Yet, even then the patch of white
Under your chin, made a grandpa of you.

Those first weeks, so tiny you
Would curl up in the box in our kitchen,
Or attack my hair with youthful zeal,
Or roll on the grass
After we forced you to the bathtub
Where your tail hid between your shaky legs.

Part of our family you sat
Patiently as I sang loudly to the house
When only you and I were there.
Or comforted me with your warmth
Leaning against me
As I sat on the back porch.
Or tried to lick my face
As I brushed your black hair.

Dad taught you to sit, rollover,
Beg, play dead, and stay.
But this time you didn’t stay

Dad decided it wasn’t fair
To let you remain in pain.
He considered not telling me,
Knowing that as the youngest
I would miss you the most.
Mom told him no.
And so I found myself saying
Goodbye to my dear childhood friend
Recalling how you would surprise me
When I read on the lawn
Or tried to make snow angels

I had always been less busy
Than the rest of the family
But you had been there and I wasn’t alone.
Home and you were inseparably
Connected in my mind
And in my heart.

Then you grew old and I grew up
Now home is half college apartment,
Half house where we played catch.
But something is missing.
I don’t hear you running anymore.

You Never Knew

You had something to tell me
When you got back.
I didn’t understand
Why you should need to wait,
But you felt I would hate you.
It was something I needed to hear
Face-to-face, from you.

Your plans changed though
And you weren’t going to come back.
You still wouldn’t tell me, but
Somehow I had my suspicion
And it was correct.

I didn’t hear it from you.
She had to tell me instead.
From someone else I had to learn
Your secret. You were too scared.
Scared to admit it?
Scared of how I would react?
That I would no longer be your friend?
Scared of my hate?

That was years ago.
It still haunts me that it wasn’t
You that told me that day.
That I had to confront you
With my knowledge
Though you knew I had been told.

You couldn’t tell me
Over e-mail, and not
Face-to face. Not you.
You were afraid of my hate
If you were here, I would tell you.
You can’t hate someone
You never knew.

My View

My view of the world
is a little bit skewed
You can say it,
I don’t disagree.
But
my slightly sheltered,
somewhat skewed
world that I see
is a big part of
what has made me.

I like who I am
and I like what I do
with the life that
has been handed me.
I don’t think
that my choices
have been bad
or wrong
just because people
don’t see what I see.

Sometimes I
hold back,
and sometimes I
give more
then you would
if you were in my shoes.

But the eyebrows that raise
and the comments that drip
from your sarcastically sweet
smiling lips
won’t change who I am
or the choices I choose
For my slightly skewed
glimpses of truth
is the view that was
chosen by me.