A summer of mentoring

In the white outs
and black outs
of our endeavours
you taught me
that you didn't always
have to act like
you were struggling

I guess when pushed
to the brink,
one doesn't know
anything else
but that
of a constant
and stable heart beat

we learnt that,
feeling the bolts
in the iron sheets
of my roof pressed
against our backs

The week long projects
and the hour long sessions
pulling each others minds apart

I guess with these broken
ribbed fantasies that
a dreamer that only
dreams by day is granted
was but the crack
in the establishment
of us

But a summer of mentoring
spent writing symphonies
and sonnets and soliloquies
with an autumn of
pondering about
the lack of
seemingly meaningless
phrases I've received
is I guess a normal
change of seasons.