Take a Bow

Take a Bow [or: Flowers for my Father]

if I had a

petal for every

smile you put

on my face,

each outburst

of giggles you caused

to spring from my

heart, I’d be living

in a field of flowers

and isn’t it lucky

we all live there,

in a field where

each petal is a fiber

of being,

strong

humorous

and full of joy

it’s colorful there,

when we walk in

the field, like snowy

Christmas Days the

colors of each flower

shine brighter through the

falling icy prisms

our field is a stage

to take

as we dance through

life, and isn’t it

funny to think you

taught me the first steps?

sometimes it rains

in our flower field

as we stand tall and

water falls from someone’s

cloudy eyes

but tears evaporate when

you bring out the sun

push away the

clouds, and make happy

music play through

a whistle, CD,

or song

the wind dances

through the field,

both of you pushing

me to do my best

even when I claim

kicking a soccer ball

through the flowers would

only kill them

again

you convince me to

try and score

I’m always amazed

at the lessons flowers

teach me

to keep growing

and becoming stronger

and facing towards

the sunny side of life

I’ll always thank you

for raising me in a

flower field

where I know each

petal was given with love

and laughter

and I can do the math

to figure the field goes on

for infinity plus one

I know it will always be

 a field for us to

dance in

and this time the

flowers are for you

so, Daddy, take a bow

Orange

Orange

for a million days

she was sitting there

twirling a strand

of her tangled hair

not that a million

days could fit in

that moment—more

likely it was just

a minute

but who gets to s

ay how long a

heart stays frozen?

ice will thaw its

white, transparent

cold

numbing

 cracked self, eventually

she had a theory

of a fiery heart

that once burned

with life

something could steal that

fire away

with the instant its

own fire went out

and so her flame

had turned into a

small kindle

it’s only as orange

as the setting sun

the setting sun that

trickles away holding

its light on the world

each second it can, until

it’s gone

for a million nights

sat there

twirling hair

dark night

heart ice

If You Could Touch Air

If You Could Touch Air

all you had to do

was gasp

for Air

and the magic within

it who gives Life

intangible things seem

to disappear so quickly

and sometimes you forget

they’re there

if you could touch

Air, what would

you say? if he could

hear you,

would you ask him

why he exists?

and Life? her, too.

she seems to be an

aloof character at times

and a lack of

oxygen befuddles

your mind

it’s clear, though

how much you love

them,

and rely on them,

one and the same

isn’t each breath you

take or

don’t take

a decision?

but for every person

who calls Life a gift

and Air a necessity,

there will be another to

differ and dissent

“isn’t it strange to

think,” they’ll tell you, “that

in the end gifts and

necessities are removed from

your being

in one fell swoop?”

and so it is

that the things others will

beg you

to see are invisible and

only noticed when

taken away