Flames Burn Quietly (Third Edition)

      
       
       
...in grassy park      
hung willow vines      
weeping      
at sun smiles      
reflecting      
over the rippled surface        
of a water body      
preaching      
peace and silence      
to anyone        
with an acumen      
to stop and listen      
       
kids      
taking turns at      
swings      
round-a-bouts      
between slides-      
batting eyelashes     
of friendship        
at each other      
in the winds        
that blow the smell        
of meat grilling      
through the dry air      
       
the old picnic blanket      
with it's holes      
frayed ends, and stains      
(each telling a story)      
spreads over      
pressed, wintered grass      
       
my book and I, lounge over the top      
like      
sunday celebrating      
a day of rest        
after a fourteen day slog      
turning the strongest of men      
into worn out      
tides of brain-jelly      
in a custard of muscle pain      
       
for a moment        
reason collapses      
       
life pauses      
       
even dogs don't bark      
as the afternoon        
day-dreams      
the rose gold sky      
of silver lining      
with pink eye shadow      
and      
the first star winks      
knowing      
it's being stared at      
while it basks in an      
ambivert performance      
of cinderella's      
dreams      
       
the clock strikes twelve      
-gowns      
morph into tattered rags      
the carriage a pumpkin      
       
we fall to our knees      
and begin      
weeding      
with salt watered      
tears      
       
sweating soap bubbles    
as nasta'liq      
romantisizes all    
five jewels, laying weeping      
in glass slippers;        
waiting half way up        
       
or down      
       
the redundant staircase      
of hope      
       
       
-x-