Deserted

Sun shining on dirt below;
Across the hot rocks
The tumbleweeds go.

Crab grass, growing now
Only sound is
The sad cry of the crow.

Who longs for a warm embrace;
A secret kiss
On his feathery face.

All alone he crows and cries
As one love grows,
It suddenly dies.

A hole left upon the heart
As soon as the people
Grow apart.

Moon crying its tears on the ground--
This is how desertion
Spreads the hurt around.

Dreaming Twice

Sun is bright-shining
Through the window
Curtains ruffled in the breeze
The last bit of sleepiness
Fades away with
The cricket's sneeze.

You laugh and throw the silk covers back
The maid will make your bed.
When you feel a gentle rapping--
Could it be inside your head?

You open your eyes
You see your mother
Standing over you.
She smiles and says, "Get out of that bed!"
(And you thought your dreams were
Through!)

From the Pink Notebook

The pencil is smudged
The pen is faded
The paper is ripping
But it is my soul.

After every test,
After every hurt,
After every laugh,
It is my soul.

A word is me,
A word is you,
A word is it,
It is my soul.

The spelling mistakes,
The stains of useless tears,
The memories within,
It is my soul.

It is me,
It is me,
It is this,
It is my soul.

It's just a notebook,
It's just a poem,
It's just an it.
It is my soul.

Stairs
Stairs in
Stairs in front
Stairs in front of
Stairs in front of us,
Stairs in front of us, should
Stairs in front of us, should we
Stairs in front of us, should we take
Stairs in front of us, should we take the
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid to
Stairs in front of us, should we take the first step or are we too afraid to try?

This
This is
This is the
This is the question.

Two Days in a Week

I wish that Monday could be escaped,
And Tuesday would be there waiting
For you and I to spend together:
A day of bliss to spend under a sunset
With waves softly licking the sand.

The grains slip through our fingers
As we fan them out, sighing, relaxed;
And all because Monday was avoided
And Tuesday is ours to savor--
How to spend it? Only with you.

An orange morning approaches,
But it's just another day, only Wednesday.
Tuesdays will be different forever:
The feeling of waking up, bursting with excitement,
Will remind us of that new Tuesday.

When Monday was escaped,
Only to end up here, on this Tuesday,
Oh, we will forget the small moments from the
Drive down, but the feeling of the Tuesday that was savored
Will always linger within our hearts.

Polar Opposite

The waves breathe the day's warmth on the cooling sand,
The new found sense of relaxation and calmness.
The only regret I have of this day
Is the fact I didn't tell you how much I loved you every single second of it.
The soft sun caressed the hardness of our hearts
And made everything okay, it seemed.
And now, as we walk the long, silent path back to the house,
The calm is broken and hard feelings return,
Something the man in the moon can't fix.
We can only wait until morning to speak again.
I wish the sun wouldn't sleep.

Ode to the Bean Kid

Sitting on the bus
Next to you.
I see you shyly look over
At me.
I give you the death stare.
You look away.

Sitting on the bus
Next to you.
I look at you with
Admiring eyes, but you
Take out my soul with
Piercing eyes.
I look away.

Sitting on the bus
Next to who?
Oh yes, the Bean Kid.

Mitchell and Falling Stars

Sitting in a living room,
The birds will soon begin warming up for their
Daily concert.
Though they are drowned out by the sounds of a Yellow Taxi,
I can still hear their songs
Echoing from this afternoon.

All day it's been about falling stars:
Joni Mitchell's lyric and the one in
My pocket. It seems to be fading
Every time I think of
You.

As the day begins again,
My eyes have not yet rested.

I catch a falling star but it
burned a heart-shaped hole in
My pocket, and I think somebody else
Picked it up.