The burst
I count the pages
Line the trees
Trace an outline with a pen
Twist the paper til it hurts
Feel the numbness in my hand.
These fingers do the walking
Back and forth and velvet tripping
The never and the ever
And the brilliance in between.
I can spend
I can feel
I can wave this thing called humane
Like a flag in light of something bright;
I can play the fiddle even, see I can,
Watch me smile, watch me cry
Let me paint it in my own particular way
Play this part
Make a sail
Tell the others I can take this boat away
Let me stray
Or let me stay
It’s an easy way to view this choice of mine.
Catch a plane
Hatch a plan
Escape the very things I seek to have –
Is that a thrill?
Am I a seeker?
Did I spill a clue to what I wish today?
Or did I hide it, conceal it, never to be read?
I turn the pages
Catch the light
Watch the drizzle of the ever-dying day
Like spreading ink it splatters into curls
Adrift upon this tide, so turning falls
Back upon itself and this night
As I count the pages
Tear each one out and cast away
The dreams I have yet to live.
The dreams I have yet to live.
Copyright Vickie Johnstone, July 21, 2017
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