This then is my truest of truths:
I miss you in my waking hours
when night is gone and morning comes
for then there are no magical dreams
to which I may once more succumb.
Why are these tainted tears familiar
Have they been patiently waiting in the cold dark corners
Standing under burgeoning boughs
Air thick with weight of morning rain
I recall your murmurs and marvel how
I still feel your soulful pain.
At the broken window while tears slide down her face
she wonders how she came to be in this dreadful place
At the broken window while the world keeps spinning on
Her life has fallen around her with the coming of the dawn
Holding on to acrid grief
in day break’s waking hours
the bitterest joy thief
who usurps all your powers.
She walks with angels on a misty shore.
The morning is damp and cold, but she does not feel it.
As the frost smoke rises over the glassy lake, she stops, reflecting.
At that moment, a magnificent large mouth bass escapes the water, breaking the silence.
Its powerful leap sends echoing waves to the lake’s sandy edge. As they lap,lap,lap and caress her bare feet, she looks at the angels, her eyes aglow with a far off memory.
“I caught the biggest fish of my life right here. “
They laugh, “We know. Your joy soared all the way to heaven. God walked around with the biggest smile on his face all day long.”
As the insistent blackbird cried
There came a familiar voice
He spoke to me and sighed
You know this was a choice