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Replying to a comment on:
Solstice, 2007 (Free verse) by lectricprincess
This Weekend:
Did you get any shots of the sky?
How summer was wrenched away in a glorious show:
rain! Like I've never seen here in one year, and perhaps, five months
and 2 days.
The wind of course, tried to repair it, working, ripping
apart the corpulent clouds to reveal the bluest calm sky, the deepest
place, envy of the restless ocean.
I rubbed my eyes, sleep deprived, through a spattered windshield, they
moved faster than the traffic signals.
I thought of you, perhaps watching in similar amazement. Full of drama,
a production; like everything else out here, only part-real.
We traipsed through the villa by the sea, where the marble
was radiating psychedelic white in the weather-changing air, ionized,
purified; me and my sister, like two sirens, just vessels for a fate
that will catch you...its part-real.
The weather, performing all around us
As if the day was purposefully set for a memory that would stick into
you, because the crevice in your heart had become empty.
As if I should be saying goodbye to something; I know not what, but it
whispers silently, in waves as I'm too distracted to see it.
As if my spent energy just spins to a whirl at the bottom, culminating
into a force, as that which turns the leaves to the ground. I could
miss it, in this storm.
As if life really came around like a wheel, (its part-real), speeding up
towards the next point of contact, faster and faster, and then, thump!
Its the subtle death, the cloaking of summer, that makes it possible to
exist, as you said, between the water and the pier; when the tide speaks
to what is flowing inside you, at the very spot where the body has come
to rest.
where the leaf turns over and I stop running. Like a seed, I sink into
the nights, and dreams rush to the core.
This golden departure is no end to the movement of my hands; merely the
Technicolor haze of leisure melts to reveal a crisper, clearer hunger.
The time when we look within and put the details into focus;
The time when a good friend is needed in stronger, less frequent doses,
And I mean it when I say that soon, sometime
We should meet for a glass of wine.
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