Behind the mirror

Hidden behind the mirror,

gone within a batting eye.

Maybe Narcissus wasn’t so lost in his own reflection,

just gazing at the other side.

The curious smile of a stranger,

yet on a warmly familiar face.

Like an image rippling in a pond,

with a vanishing wink, he eludes sight and trace.

Splintering

Crackling and splintering as it breaks.

Flying shards erupting outward as the tension tears from within.

There is no bending, nor sway.

As the crackle and snapping explode to a roar,

soon the ground shakes when this oak stands no more.

Like a vine to a limb.

Like a summer born vine,

clasped to a limb,

wrapped and entwined,

organically trimmed.

Twisting around,

together, tied in it’s curls.

Wound and, as one, bound

grasping the underside, as it furls.

Like a knotted cord,

over bark and branch, tethered.

Garnished and dotted,

spreading leaves, speckled and weathered.

Like a vine to a limb,

lover’s paths entwine.

Laced over time and again,

as together they climb.

Ashes

Beyond the dark eve falling

and past gray dawn’s dreary gloom.

At once a new day calling,

A rebirth of sorts, deliverance from the tomb.

Out of the ash and soot and charred remains,

Wreaking, the stench of stale smoke as perfume.

Alive again beneath smeared filth and stains,

A rebirth of sorts, from dormancy’s ashen womb.

Only when

Only with thoughts wandering,

do I recall.

A brief reminiscence, pondering,

one winter through ’till fall.

Once sweet, then bitter,

now indifferent it seems.

Forever just a glitter,

banished to vanishing dreams.

Secretly

Softly and sweetly

through the summer morning’s air.

Arriving silently

upon changing winds,

..A gift,

…a spark,

a steady glowing ember.

..Kindled at once.

…Kindled alive.

The essence of souls.

Burning

And no one else needs to know.

Delicate and sweet

Delicate and sweet

and charming as well.

Bashfully blushing cheeks

and a smile so telling.

Once her eyes meet,

a glance cast the spell.

with a wink and a tease,

flirtatiously melting.

Fruition

It is the end of the transition,

the beginning anew.

Mesmerizing moonglow glistens,

on leaves touched with dew.

Sailing and soaring toward longing’s fruition,

fates sweet rendezvous.

Enchanted and charming verse of the magician,

Sampling and savoring this magical brew.

A stolen dream

Alive with nature’s own strife and wrath.

Charioted in with a tarnished silver flare,

Slashing and gashing like a knife on it’s path

a lightning bolt blast slicing the night and shredding a prayer.

.

~(<<|>>)~

.

Awakened uncomfortably out of a dull and restless sleep.

Lifelessly still and sultry as the storm begins brewing and churning,

A tattering, and splattering breaks the lull, the thundering skies pour and weep.

A dream interrupted, lost forever, a stolen yearning.