Cold rain falls in the river, flows down to the sea, gets into the skyline, circles endlessly. Same old rain on the wind, same old pain in my soul.

Thursday, September 30, 2010


When she was smaller
Or younger
Not really sure which

She would run to me

Little warning
Beyond its own surety
She would sail
On the springboard of love
And trust and God,
How she'd fly!

The only word, "up!"
And her legs would tie my hips
And her arms would fasten
My neck
And then the squeeze
Of nothing left over

Even when she grew bigger
Or older
Can't say which

I would expect the "up!"
And it came without fail
Til one day
I wobbled
Ever so slightly
And the springboard broke
And a hug was waggled
In the compromise