I cannot touch you,
the reach is beyond a starry night
when the winds change
I can feel the loneliness ahead.
I took your picture down,
not to avoid looking at you,
just to give you peace,
my own well being a sweet demon.
If I cannot find a word
I write my own,
scratch out an idea,
replace it with anything new,
Anything that might help me lose
this urgency drives me to return,
words are again and again and again
reminders and solace and love and respect,
desire and passion and worry and
always asking, just, asking ….
When I was just a kid,
there were rhythms with such skill,
I would look at a stone
on the ground
with a different lens
by the way the music spoke to my mind,
and I never understood why.
Then one day I found this song,
the lyrics of which,
perhaps she was in my mind,
yet it seemed
every word crying to be heard,
“A turn of the page
Can read like before
Can we ask for more”
Seemed so easy, to read the purpose
of ‘Isn’t Life Strange’
telling us all to stop and breathe,
to realize the world the same,
perhaps not absolute,
yet certainly can we all fall in love,
yes we can,
for we do turn the page,
though we know
the words remain.
They could always be the same,
our lives, our loves, our words.