Sitting in a Prague Café
The rush of cold
follows
as she sweeps inside.
Her hair floats,
Golden.
As if free from time.
Eyes azure,
and thoughtful.
Pausing,
finding her seat;
her cathedra.
Close,
yet too far away.
Situated now.
Notebook agape,
writing.
She bites her finger
in a delicate way,
as her free hand glides
across the page.
Thoughts?
Assignments?
Dreams?
Sipping the ink black
from her cup.
Pausing.
She becomes the muse.
__
War of Words
burning
as fallen soldiers;
I tasted the moment.
and began remembering
intended conversations.
Lying to the silences.
__
What Was Forever
Staring at the meadows of the sky,
the pure white flowers linger.
Drawing in the summer air’s sweet breath
it only reminds of time remaining.
Holding that picture of you
standing in a field of rye;
I get a sense of myself
through you.
And I am forgetting it all.
__
Empty Space
There’s a picture
here somewhere.
And a book
that no one has read.
An afterthought;
submerged in sadness.
Have you seen my ghost?
Everyone
chooses a god.
Be careful
of the one
you choose.
__
