Sing Me

Hold that first note

Long and low

Walk down the scale in time

Those minor keys

Unlock me

Sing the cage door open

With harmonies I fly

In melody return

Lift up a voice that’s true

Sing me back together

Climb again the mountain

Sail upon the sea

Lose me in the forest

Rhymes and rhythm captured

Spirits freed enraptured

Loose me from this prison

Sing me pure and good

Sing me real and gritty

Sing me one more time

Sing me back to you

I Left You In the Mirror

Maybe you are crying still

Our eyes met briefly through the pane

When I walked away with no glance back

I thought I heard your hand tap gently

On the golden gilded frame

It’s been years since I last saw you there

Generations past

I think I see your shadow waver

Glimpses through the looking glass

I shut my eyes and turn away

This path is long and neverending

Quietly descending

Then loudly challenging the force

Of gravity’s heel clutching fingers

I won’t look

I left you in the mirror

And as far as I can care to know

You’re standing in there still

Yet I write these letters

Hoping that you’ll see

We’ve almost made it home now

Almost there

It won’t be long now

Almost free

And in the morning misty air

Shower fogged and steamy mirror

I thought I saw you wave to me

Still safe behind the glass

I held your gaze a moment

And made peace with the past

mirror reflecting tender hand with pink rose
Photo by Ruba Abdulaziz on Pexels.com

I went into my draft folder to delete this morning’s draft and found this titled, but unwritten post. As they do sometimes, the words flowed easily. When I went looking for a photo, I found this one captivating, and better than the image I thought I had been seeking.

Daily Poem – Constellation (with Audio) 11/24/2020

(Reposted with Sung Poetry link)

Take the shot, they said

I ran my finger around the rim of the glass

The fumes of insults bitter rose

Hard liquor is not for me, I tell them,

I remember when I drank that poison

Dancing lightly to the tune of other people’s dreams

I just slip out the back door, now

To smoke freedom in the alley

Walk out onto the sidewalk under lamp posts

Glowing golden in the night

To wander empty city streets and dream

Of communal integration and

Hopes of equitable contribution

My thoughts become a world renewed

By pleasant innovation

Before I know it, I’ve gone home

A waiting invocation to a peaceful

Destination brought by sleepy

Contemplation

In the morning, I will rise

Put some plans upon the table

Avoid stinging tribunals from defenders

Of the status quo

Fanciful rebellion built from cotton candy

Musings

Holding sacred all the precious beauty

Which has become the inspiration

For each flowering consolation

What is love if not the logical progression

Of earthly preservation plus

The deeply cultivated reverence

For each human’s common situation

Temporary permanence

On a trip or two around the sun

What have we won with greed

What have we lost with need

Unfulfilled and

Running headlong in between

The birthing and the grave

Full stop

Give me your hand

Let’s watch the sun caress the sky

Whether rising

Whether sinking

We are written within time’s eternal

Constellation

Dismantled

Apart came the cassette player

Tiny screwdriver unwinding tiny screws

The music box with the ballerina

Slowly spinning static above red satin

The fabric tugged out carefully

A mysterious mechanism released from its hold

No longer attached

Free

The work took place in secret

Spaces during times unlikely

To be distubed

Taking it all apart

How romantic

To try and see how it all worked

Springs and metal tines

And a spindle with well positioned bumps

Made music for the dancer

Why did she dance

How could she not

But

I was stymied at the circuit board

For recording every note

A small city with sculptured silver pyramids

Barrel buildings on their sides held aloft on metal legs

How poetic

To wonder what mysteries were held

In the little spaces

Colored beads of wonder

Against the green

And to put it back together

And to insure that it would work

Nothing broken

Nothing loose

No shred of evidence behind

Tiny tools were hidden

Until the next time

woman in black and white dress walking on gray concrete stairs
Photo by Ivan Samkov on Pexels.com