Appreciation

You never know until tomorrow comes
The true worth of today
You never see until the morning sun
Shines on the ocean spray

What Was

Where is the wonder that she used to know?
That little girl, where did she go?
The one with her friends outside in the snow,
When having to leave was her only woe?

She went to the future and she stayed at home,
Trying to find the light in the gloam.
But time got up and went off to roam;
When next she looked up, she was alone.

Now, she is haunted by all that should be;
And all that she wanted she knows won’t come free.
What’s to believe in, and what’s there to see,
When all that’s around you is your life’s debris?

Dancing With the Storm

I like dancing with the storms:
Feeling the electricity;
Watching as the wind
Blows it closer to me.

I like the silhouette of trees
Against a dark, gray sky;
I like the life in the breeze
That makes you feel like you can fly.

Yes, I like dancing with the storm,
I like swaying with the trees;
And I like the power of it all
That brings me to my knees.

Samarra

Would I know him if I saw him?
If I passed him on the street?
Would he be cold and dressed in black
Or would I think him rather sweet?
Would I like him if I met him?
Would he understand?
The only one in all the world
Who would ever hold my hand.
Would he be angry and derisive?
Would he laugh, and only scorn?
Or would he be kind, and remember
All I’ve been since I was born?
Would he tell me very gently
When it was time to go?
Or come on me abruptly,
And steal me — like so?
Will I see him there with me
When I stop drawing breath?
Or will I even recognize
When comes mister Death?

Prodigal Friend

I wonder if it’s their voices
That carry on the wind…
Their laughter in the distance,
With some friend I’ve never met?
I wonder if they think of me,
And all the times we had…
I wonder if they long for me:
Their prodigal friend.

A Conversation

We had a conversation,
I don’t know if you remember:
It was sometime in between
Now and last December.

We were out upon a walk,
As we were wont to do;
And we were talking ’bout whatever
It was we wanted to.

Our conversation struck
Upon a topic as like gold;
So rare, so precious to me —
And you allowed it to unfold.

We so seldom talk
Of the things within our hearts;
To hear such is a joy
So keen it almost smarts.

In this case, it was hearts themselves
Upon which the conversation ran:
Extroversion and introversion,
And who was who in our little clan.

Our youngest brother, you declared,
Was an extrovert for sure;
I was somewhat skeptic,
But eventually deferred.

From there we skipped straight to
The question of ourselves:
And it was no question (not to me),
For we’ve lived our lives as if on shelves.

You define yourself an introvert
With a certain pride;
I heartily agree,
And put myself upon that side.

Here’s where comes my shock —
For you are not so sure!
You intimate I’m still a child
And I’ve yet to grow some more.

So now as I laugh and chat and smile
And listen to them talk,
I come to almost wonder
If that should really make me balk.