Friday, May 30, 2008

A Question of Hope

Thoughts will wander far from me,
through a past, or future place.
At times so much I'll over look
the present moment's grace.
Memories may feed my soul,
or starve it till it's weak.
Dreams of what may come,
or not, in ways seductive speak.
If I could learn to apprehend
the fulness that is now,
might memories be banquets
and dreams come true somehow?

Tuesday, May 27, 2008

Occasional Days

The door of my heart

though never locked

may be frozen in place

on occasional days

when the dampness of tears

and rough ragged breaths

fills the stifling air.