Letter From a Friend
He smiled in wretched sadness.
Weeping brittle tears of joy at the empty hole
his life had become.
He wrote a letter in pencil to his dearly departed friend
but ran out of ink.
So he started all over again
at the end.
“I think of you sometimes when the warm winter wind blows
dragging with it dust drops of water.
It forms your face in the street.
But then the cold-hearted Sun dries your smile away.
Still, I remember.
I recall fondly the time we spent apart.
I still have all those letters you never sent me.
Thank you for those.
All those trips we took together
I’m sorry I never showed up.
All those late-night conversations we never had
I still replay them over and over in my mind.
I hope I never see you again
one day soon.
I miss hearing the sound of your silence.
Eve and the boys send love and flowers.
We all miss you terribly
you rotten bastard.
Hope you’re doing well
in Hell.
Regretfully,
Your friend Adam.
Lonely Bloom
After he got the news, his arms went limp and the rose fell to the floor. He stood there, staring at it for a few moments. Unable to move or even think. Finally, he unfolded the paper and began reading again the poem he had composed for her.
"Though we're apart and my life is a desert, love can still bloom in the driest of places. Like a rose that waters itself with the tears of missing you."
He stopped short, unable to finish. Then stooping down, he picked up the flower, and put it under his nose, allowing its fragrance to linger there. As he stood up and inhaled deeply, he recalled the place where they had first met.
It was at a little sidewalk café, in Paris, where he often went to work on his journal. He was sitting alone, she with friends. He was jotting down some random observations about the music and the cuisine when she came up softly. She cleared her throat a little, causing him to gaze up and stare at her in stunned silence.
She stood there like a lovely European dream. Her long, flowing, blond hair was soft-lifted by the breeze, playing all around her head in delicate little tangles. Her deep blue, sea green eyes regarded him with surprised interest, as her smooth skin shimmered in the hot Paris sun like rose-colored pearl. For a few moments, he was unable to speak.
Finally, he slipped back into this new reality where anything was possible as long as she was a part of it.
"Wha-What may I do for you?" He said, barely able to control his emotions.
She went to speak, and her soft voice sounded cool, clear, and musical. Like the whisper of magic fairy chimes, tinkling softly in an open doorway on a pleasant spring day.
"May I have this chair?" She asked, coming up close and placing both her arms around it as if she could not bear to be parted from it. "You see, a friend of mine has just arrived, and she has no place to sit."
Then she stepped aside and allowed him to peer behind her, where he saw two attractive ladies sitting at a table. While a third one stood close by, gazing his way with a hopeful expression.
He could refuse her nothing. "Yes, you may have it most certainly. Just as long as you promise to come and sit with me after your friends leave."
She tilted her head a little to one side, gazed at him with eyes wet and glistening, then she made a sigh that he would never forget. Seeming to laugh and cry in the same breath.
"Oh, I cannot, for we are all leaving together, you see. Ah well, I shall just find one somewhere else I suppose." Then she went to turn away when he stopped her.
"Wait! I shall not hear of such a thing!" He proclaimed indignantly. "You shall surely take that chair for your friend. It is my gift to you. Enjoy."
Then she giggled and clapped her hands together gleefully like a young schoolgirl. "Oh goody! Thank you so much kind, sir. You truly are an angel."
"No Madam, you are the angel. I am but a wandering soul, waiting for the salvation only your sweet love can provide."
She looked him directly in the eyes and mouthed the words thank you. As she slid her tongue out seductively and let it touch the front of her lips. Then she smiled, waved a little, and after lifting up the chair, she set it down for her friend. Then they both sat down together, ordered some drinks and all of them started talking.
He tried to continue working on his journal. But each time he did, he would hear her laughter rise above that of the others, and it left his soul intoxicated. Or he would hear her talking and her voice became like a siren song. Seeming to sound higher, clearer, and more beautiful than all the rest. It almost caused him to lose control of his emotions. So that in a second or two he felt as if he might rise up and declare his love for her. Regardless of who was around or what happened afterwards.
Suddenly, he shot a quick glance here and there to see if anyone else had become aware of his growing infatuation with her. No one had. Then, he dropped his pen on the table, closed the journal, sat back in his chair, and lit up a cigarette. Resigning himself to defeat.
Several minutes later he put the cigarette out and began collecting up his journal, some notes, and other miscellaneous things he had brought with him. He placed everything within a small leather carrying case. Determined to come back in a day or two when hopefully, there would be no more distractions.
Then, just as he stood up to leave, her perfume instantly reached out, caught hold of him, and enfolded his senses within a cloud of bliss. He stood there helplessly with his eyes closed, seeming to breathe in a mystical flower of paradise right after the world was new-created.
He knew he couldn't leave like this, so he sat down again and quickly wrote a few lines about her. Then he casually dropped the paper in front of her as he passed. She opened it there and read quietly to herself.
"I am intrigued by the perfume you are wearing. I remember smelling that same fragrance before. It was at the Musée du Louvre. I was admiring that painting, "The Birth of Venus" by Botticelli. You were still lingering in the air, as I arrived.
I had just missed you. I have not been able to forget you since.
You came down from the painting, and into my life. I long to inhale you more deeply. Here is my number, can we meet?"
She called later that night, and they met the very next morning. In the same café, at the same table. From that moment on, his heart belonged to her.
On their first day sightseeing together, they walked under the Arc de Triomphe du Carousel where he kissed her and declared his love. In that moment he told her later, he had outdone Napoleon himself and taken possession of Europe's greatest treasure.
Afterwards, while strolling through the Jardin des Tuileries, they held hands as they admired the paintings, the statues and immersed themselves in the garden's breath-taking beauty. It was there he found a flower unlike the others and named it after her.
"La Fleur d'Elise."
Later, they walked the Champs-Élysées and stopped along the way to browse the luxury shops, cafés and cinemas.
As evening approached, they visited the Eiffel Tower and the Grands Boulevard area in the 9th Arrondisement, where they enjoyed some of the Parisian nightlife. Then they went back to their little café and had dinner.
Afterwards, they ordered a bottle of wine and sat there discussing music, art, poetry and theater. Towards the end of the night, they kissed once more and exchanged love vows, both of them swearing never to think of anyone else while they were apart.
Theirs was a sweet, simple relationship in which they constantly discovered new things about each other to cherish. He told her that he loved the way she tilted her head to one side ever so slightly while speaking. She said that she enjoyed the gleam of adoration in his eyes whenever he spoke to her. They thought it would never end.
But, that was more than a month ago, and a lot had changed since then. He mistook a friend for her lover and grew extremely jealous. Demanded to know who he was and why she was spending time with him. Angry words were exchanged and accusations made that she could not forgive. He had become unreasonable in his suspicions, so she broke it off.
Now she was gone. Had returned to London, her neighbor told him, barely an hour ago. He had just missed again her it seems. Yet her perfume was hanging heavy in the air as always. Then, the neighbor handed him a note from her.
He opened it up and read the final words which she had left for him.
"You sweet, silly man. You will find me...everywhere. Fondly, your Elise."
He nodded his head sadly and wiped away a few tears. Afterwards, he gave the rose to the neighbor, then placed the poem and the note in his pocket. Dejected but accepting, he walked out the front door and back down the street to the little café at which they had first met. Where he knew her fragrance would still be waiting to haunt him forever.
With the memory of a love that would never grow.
Early Morning Frost
Drifting quietly over the slumbering land
comes the unfolding blanket of snowflakes.
They look like a flock of whirling stars.
Joyful and laughing, they gather in groups.
Chasing each other and playing seasonal games.
Or they drift aimlessly
like confused runaway children.
Frightened and alone.
The leaves bid them a dry welcome
as they lay there whimpering softly
about their Springtime loves.
When in youthful green colors
they bedecked the trees.
And waved adoringly
To the sweet, young blossoms below.
Occasionally one would sacrifice itself
and float to the ground.
Landing near a cherished flower.
There, for just a short time
they would bask
in its special and unique fragrance.
Now, those days gone
they lay dried and decaying
upon the broken-hearted Earth.
Restless, they move about in deserted places.
As the hopeless snowflakes approach.
Timid Fascination (Wounded Heart)
I, a skillful hunter seek the shy reclusive doe.
Lying in wait that I may pierce her suddenly
with an arrow from Cupid’s bow.
Beneath the sheltering trees occasionally I behold her reposing
gazing at her reflection in the watery sky.
Then I wonder if it’s for love of me that she’s pining.
As her teardrops dapple the grateful roses, which sigh.
The songbirds perch above with restless wings
living to serve only her.
As they bring rich and luscious fruits in abundance
causing the taste buds of her heart to stir.
Then I see my chance, and as I aim and shoot
she leaps clear of my shaft with graceful ease.
Turning back she gives me a carefree, inviting glance
then disappears into the shadows beyond the trees.
Her movements are so fluid like water in motion
each step she takes is sweet music divine.
Causing the soul of all creation to rejoice in my love’s presence
with visions of her beauty that transcend the sublime.
Earth Song
Harken now
as the westerly wind softly intones a low
mournful dirge.
While the reeds at the water’s edge
pick up the sad refrains
and over them
they transpose their quavering
illusionary measures.
Broken up occasionally by a discordant sigh.
The birds passing by
pause a moment
as they listen crestfallen
to the slow, sorrowful lament.
Which they keep time to
with a dull thrumming of the wings.
And a sweet blending-over
of fading trills.
Which becomes barely perceptible
amidst the echo-booms
of the loud thundercloud drums.
And the intermittent tinkling sound
of the raindrops.
As they pelt the leaves
on the musical tree of magic colors.
Which having once danced
and enjoyed life and freedom so much
now stands condemned.
Hopelessly rooted
to this one solitary spot.
And so it droops over now
with dampened spirits.
As it beholds the birds,
the wind, the reeds
and all the other players
in this lonely cheerless pastoral.
Trying to recall a time
when it didn’t once glance backwards
and think of things precious
that were
but are no more.
While the grey, somber sky
conductor
of this orchestrated
remembrance
soothes
their saddened spirits
by serenading them
with a melodious rainbow.
Which heralds
the promise of a new day.
When all of nature
will once again
sing in tune.
Mortal Blooms
Take these flowers from before me.
They are good for nothing.
Remove them from my sight!
These tear-smitten love growths.
See how they droop and wilt in my hands?
I will rip off their soft, pink deceptions.
Their faded hues hurt my eyes
with honest lies.
I want to behold some monstrous nosegays
sick of adorning the pale stem of scented finery.
Hate embellished roses, that’s what I want to see.
Bouquets of long-suffering flesh petals
blood-stained.
That makes the senses recoil with their pungent wind-sprays.
Mutated orchids disdain the garden.
Blooming in gaudy defiance from the trash heap.
Unplucked
they vomit forth their foul gushings with stifled breath.
Graceful in decay.
They shoot forth with lilting smiles
like the houseplant
cursing the hand that nurtures.
Blessed in uprooting.
Becoming more glorious when cast away.
Refusing life in tragic colors
that beautify
the dust where they lie.
Wingless Freedom 2
Never a day passed
when he wasn’t there
watching the rose
white star birds
grazing in the cloudy air.
Soaring beyond sight
to appear once again.
The Fairy Terns
miracles of nature
this child was their life-long friend.
Over time, he was welcomed
following the pattern they flew.
from sky to sea
and back again
he was immersed in sunlit blue.
When he got married
they attended the rites
dazzling the couple
with flawless ballets
of graceful, inspired flight.
When his first child was born
they celebrated the birth
by directing sunlight
to enfold the infant
endowing its soul with mirth.
When his marriage ended
and his heart was broken
they hovered near him all that day
singing a song
too sad to be spoken.
When his son died in the war
and his soul was beyond healing
they wept rainbow tears
of impassioned color
to reflect what he was feeling.
Then, one day he came
and they weren’t there anymore.
He waited and watched
but they returned not
to the sky nor to the shore.
Afterwards he became depressed
when he knew his dearlings were gone
he felt deep inside
that they no longer loved him
so he made himself move on.
Many years later
after he drove everyone away
the cancer came
his breathing slowed down
his life-force a fading grey.
Slowly his limbs failed him
and he knew the end was near.
So he asked some neighbors
to take him back
to the beach which he held so dear.
They did as he wished
and left him alone.
So, there he remained
from dawn to dusk
till his body became like stone.
As his eyes began to close
he suddenly heard a sound.
Looked up and saw dozens
of Fairy Terns
slowly circling round.
One by one they descended
and covered him with their wings.
They took his pain
upon themselves
like fluttering heavenly kings.
As they flew off again
to the faraway lands
he held the last one gently
and wept
precious jewels into the sand.
The Sunlight was fading
as he let it be.
And when it flew away
He closed his eyes
as his body set his spirit free.