When I find peace
between the crease
of a morning dawn
and fields of wheat,
I will retire
by a family fire,
to hear the ‘pop!’
as the wood expires.
Yet once alone,
I have come home
To the place I owe
The life I own,
Though I wish for days
I felt dismayed,
I could trade my grief
For a newborn gaze;
By far-gone are these ways
And I relive the words
I meant to say,
the barn dog larks
sing and bark,
as the shadows shift
nearing dark,
as the blacksmith pounds
spits, and sparks,
I release the quill
and split my mark;
For days gone by
I'll see again,
I can only hope
for the return
of a long lost friend;
on a brick path
in a sticky thicket,
behind an emerald lawn
and a fence picket,
on a covered bridge
or an unknown road,
where only two like-minds
knew the secret code,
At the fishing hole
we used to sing soul,
until a hungry trout
hit hook and pole,
Although I admit;
afraid of being jumped
or being ignored,
I hesitated moving
on the checkerboard,
I stood and watched
the pieces move,
too young to notice
I had nothing to lose.
And as we stand
in the shadows of
penetrating dark,
let our memories
be lanterns,
and our friendship
the spark,
for wasted is the life
with no ups and downs,
and I'll always hear you out,
no matter how deafening
the sound.
[edit on 3-3-2009 by JipStix]



