At Keystone Café, the radio plays
and words of a song from the sixties pierce my coffee-bred thoughts:
Always something there to remind me…
Trying to forget, I know this world is but a dream
a temporary mirror of the other
that place where you and I reside in eternity
mere cells within the One Great Plan
where time has no meaning
and words don’t exist
and love is a given
Yet here, amongst dog rose and lupin
she, open and pink
and he, closed and blue
we became like them – rooted in sand
surrounded by stones and their stories
drinking summer grey mists
on salt water taffy mornings
but rose petals fade and lupins shrivel
their seedpods of black
hanging like coffins
Right now
in this moment
eagle perches for the view
and fish dance
and gulls dive for the feast
and cry
this is mine
All the while
the ferry inhales and exhales passengers
like a heart-lung machine
a blood bank of journeys
a breaker of waves that crosses the synaptic sea
and, locked into terminal, transmits
holders of keys to neurons
In bursts of energy
flowing down rivers of roads
streams of pulsing potential
these elements of the greater intelligence
try to carry its message
this for the arms that yearn to hold
that for the aching walk-alone legs
and yesterday’s broken dream becomes
one Sunday transformed
A poem is born in words that don’t rhyme
as the radio plays another song:
Can’t you hear the pounding of my heartbeat,
You’re the one I love…
Holding the mirror close, all I see is my own breath
and waves that drill the shore in a tumbling roll
while the ocean remains constant
and eagle takes flight
Submitted to:
onesingleimpression.blogspot.com
poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/poetrypantry
sundayscribblings.blogspot.com
