Saturday, June 30, 2012

in a space inbetween our togetherness...


a space

our togetherness,

I go in search
electric heat,
music making machine
& red sheets.

I notice a single yellow flower
braving the safety
& sanctuary of garden;
it boldly pokes itself through
fenced confines,

lifting its tiny head skyward
in search of winter warmth.

I try to take a photo,
but the memory in my phone
is full.

In a park (a little later)
I begin to shed digital memories.
I feel the sunlight tingling
on my forehead & skin.

I marvel at fallen red leaves
lying in wet grass,
they gently absorb the sunlight,

I make my way to the mall,
thinking of her,
breathing & seeing the world
with the eyes of a photographer.

The sky burns a brigher blue
than normal,
it ignites yellow leaves on a tree.
Lightning glows in their veins,
as they dance
gently in the breeze.

On another fence
larger than the first,
a freshly painted heart
stains timber...

And on the other side of a busy road
(on a concrete wall)
Wendy & her siblings
take flight skyward...

She looks determined,
searching (once more)
for her
beloved Peter...

Across railway line,
tree branches stretch like witch fingers
just out of reach

Until finally,
mission accomplished:

(an assortment of essential
winter-warding appliances
& bedclothes under arm)

I return to the spot
where I first noticed
lone yellow flower
and fence.

Bending down
in the fading light,
I take a photo

(to accompany an as yet unwritten poem)...

And I am
to discover

not one flower
lifting its head towards the last
dying light of dusk...

...but two.

I smile,
and think of her.

So much beauty
I have seen today
and long to share
with someone who understands.

Inside my head,
I quietly begin counting down
the days,

& seconds
until her imminent arrival.

I smile.

And as the sun, it sinks,
the thought of
her in my arms once more,
it warms me;
thinking of her smile again
makes my steps a little lighter;

I make my way
& deliberately
(alone, yet happy)
towards tram stop
and the long ride home.


a space

our togetherness...

(c) Brent M Harpur, 2012.

“Your wide eyes are the only light I know from extinguished constellations.”
(Pablo Neruda)

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