|(REPOST) Cyclical Rantings II
By MikeC16958 on 09/26/2005
Grab at air.
a bushel of walnuts.
(Come away with as many
as you can.)
Hold sand in your fist.
Less than you thought.
A semi-congealed pulp that’s molded,
mimicking the inside of your hand
after quite a bit has slipped
through the cracks.
Why even try to grab, reach and hold?
Less than you think?
My arms around you.
Your lips upon mine.
All the love in my heart.
I still have air.
I was never really a big walnut fan.
But I run my toes through that sand
And branded upon my memory for eternity:
A sunny, breezy, fall-time day spent
walking with you. Watching you
adjust your hair in the wind.
Watching you lazily, mundanely
looking longingly out toward the horizon
through your sunglasses, disconnected but
still in the moment, catching glimpses of you
pining for life’s possibilities,
you and I talking about whatever.
Blissful, elusive moments spent
And then those later.
A mold (that not a single soul
will ever be able to fit into except
Less than I thought.
Elusive as sand, walnuts and air.
© By MikeC16958 On 9/26/2005 11:41:34 PM