I leave a bookmark
dangling over the page,
where my smile first walked away
to fade into the distance,
without even a wave.
Now it only ever returns
infrequently.
A flying visit over
stale biscuits and cold tea,
before its away again.
No fanfare or symphony,
nor sympathy.
Just another memory
of different day.
I have corners folded, on lovelorn streets.
Moments of life where those bird tweets
out sung the wretched grind
and the clanging hum.
The changes of seasons,
when winter turned to spring,
a new love breaking the surface
into summer, where it blossoms
into joy that starts to surround us.
In the margins I have scrawled out messages,
the meanings of some lost to the decades,
the meanings of some become faded,
but some bring out life to cover the pages,
like a field on a summer day.
Butterflies providing acrobatic flybys, bees buzzing away.
Animals running and children at play.
Short poems I've found in my minds frail linings,
and had to write them down as fast as lightning,
before they take off like clouds and go flying.
There are blackened seascapes,
smeared, flecked with tissue paper residue,
from the ink blot mistakes,
where I sought escape from the view,
knocking the ink pot over the page.
Doodles dance across the edges,
twirling over highlighter marked
passages, reversed sentences seeping through
the thinning membrane of reality,
where my words damaged the future,
until I found a better way to write.
Halfway through, the pages become
clean and new, like fresh linen,
Untouched, undisturbed. A blanket of snow,
with no footprints, no pollutants.
Just an open canvas, for our futures
to be given a life and set free,
to paint themselves however they wish to be.
Thanks for reading
Follow this link for more.
https://linktr.ee/Wordsandfluff
You can find my New books
"Tales from the 44A" and "Stations
here
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0DBKXPN13/
and here
continue to do this.
Peace, Love & Poetry
Kyle
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