Starting with the stillness

Traveling in the early morning to the airport through quiet city streets inspired this one. The beautiful song ‘As if we never said goodbye’ was in my head.

Starting with the stillness
city streets are empty
one lonely car
weaving in
weaving out
paved roads.

Somewhere birds are singing
children are playing
screams of horns blaring
somewhere far.

Here, my destination
dark windows and locked doors
still time enough
to watch the sky
lighten towards
the day.

Before I turn the key
I wonder if you’re sleeping
on a sunny morning
another time
another place
another breath away.

Starting with the stillness
things are not the same, dear
children are playing
somewhere far.

Before I turn the key
I hear a bird singing
alone like me
heralding
another quiet morning
when city streets are empty
I’m waiting in the stillness
for another day.

Walking home in the fading light

As the days here give way to autumn nights, I was inspired to write about the passage of time, using the metaphor of the change of seasons.

Walking home in the fading light

I’m walking home in the fading light
Beneath the sun on a summer’s night
Golden rays and honey hue
Touch my cheek – I think of you

My spirits lift, the sky’s still bright
I’m walking home in the fading light
Your voice, an angel’s cherished song
I hear, just when I thought it gone

Upon my cheek, your gentle hand
Old, you’re with me as we planned
I’m walking home in the fading light
A memory of past delight

Your eyes a honey coloured hue
Fade and leave me in the blue
As day recedes to darker night
I’m walking home in the fading light

Poems from a Leaking Pen

I wanted a place to put poems, so I am starting this blog. I’d love to hear comments, or your own poetic thoughts.

Grandmother Sits

Inside her wrinkled face
behind cataract eyes
she holds
 
a purple purse
pictures of children
her hair before it was blue.
 
A waltz with a man
she met once
and her husband
of course.
 
A full diamond
moon and a
song she
never wrote down.
 
A library of windows
to places she’d been
people she knew
and inside
the purple purse
a name
no one else knows.