Don't waste lung

On long words.

Just one breath.

More time to think

In the pause.

The word "she,"

one gasp.

Let that be

The last of my words,

One breath out

To sum up,

All of them.

And all I meant.

is held close

Till lungs

Lay dry,

Till dust

forms a view,

Of her.

And I will have held

All of it

In me,

Like calm

While I rest.

"Speak plain," she says with a point at the chair next to her. I nod and sit.

"They sent me to ask."

"I know."

"Well?"

"Well, what? I ain't got all day."

"You know why I'm here."

"Don't mean you're off the hook. Say yer piece."

She's near blind and as old as the sea pines that sway next to her porch. I can hear waves crash just out of sight. The gray boards of her old shack hang on to flecks of white paint. There's a glass of sweet tea that sweats in her hand.

I pause, watch the beads, catch my breath.

She waits, and a grin tugs at lips that have not known teeth since Bill lied and a girl kept her dress.

Her skin was once dark as the night, but it is a deep shade of gray now. She's sick, old, and rough.

I hate what must be done.

"Go on, boy. You know my pa built this place when beach life was hard. Not one white man would live here back then. We ain't had no lights. No john. Just that shit shack, there." She points to a place that used to be, but was now just sea grass. "Tell me what your ma is too 'fraid to say."

"It's time to sell, Great Nan. Live with us."

"How much them men say this time?"

"More than we can spend."

"No. Here is mine. Here is where I will live. Home is where I will die."

I sigh.

She takes her last sip of sweet tea as I reach in my bag.

I watch the sweat drip from the glass and land on the floor as I stand and walk to her chair.

She looks up at me, and I swear I see a smirk as the clear bag wraps her head.

It's more than we can spend, but I will do my best.

Please sit down, still your mind, and lend me an ear. I have a tale to tell you, and I know if you heed my words, they will do you a lot of good.

I may not know it all, but I know this much: there are folks who tell their tales with words that have lots of sounds, but if you work at your craft you will find that you can do it in words with but one sound bite. Don’t feel that you have to prove things to the rest of them.

There is no way to make you feel just how true my words are, but I trust you will do the right thing… plus, you will sound smart, too.

I know you can do it, so tell me your thoughts and share your dreams, your way. Just give it a try, and you may be shocked at how good you are.

You too can do this.

A lone duck sits on a pond.

Clouds drift by in the sky.

Tall trees shade the ground.

A warm wind blows in from the west.

Far off smoke turns the day to night.

The duck swims calm laps.

The heat moves in fast.

White ash falls on the pond.

The duck stays.

Once far off smoke is now a close up blaze.

Tree limbs crack and crash on the ground.

The flames eat all.

The air is thick and dense with smog.

Still, the duck stays.

Bright flames dance in the duck's eyes.

The pond is now a deep blue spot in a ring of red.

The duck is a speck at the core of it all.

The fish look up from the waste on the pond's floor;

they wish for the duck's wings.

They think:

Why does the duck stay?

They don't see the wound.

Not all ducks can fly.

Oh God,

One who brought round light.

No, not the one of bright blue skies.

The white pale thing in dark skies of black.

The one we mean to sleep with when it is high.

Her, the thing I love so.

My moon.

She smiles at me.

Takes up my night sky.

Full some days.

Some nights not.

Yes.

The rise of the moon.

The thing that brings high tides in the night.

Oh moon,

Could you take me for a flight?

Could you toss my soul in your dark night sky?

Hail the, praise the one who gives the stars a place to shine.

Praise be, hold me oh so tight.

My soul will ride on to a new place so bright.

Hail the, guide of souls.

Praise the, for you may light the way.

The path to my last flight.

I can't help you.

I don't know what to tell you.

I don't know what is wrong.

Do you speak?

Can you speak?

Can you speak to me?

Can you tell me what is wrong?

If you tell me what is wrong, I can help you.

I can help you, if I know what is wrong.

Are you scared that I won't help you, if you told me what was wrong?

Are you scared that I might hurt you, if you tell me what is wrong?

Or is it too hard to tell me what is wrong?

Do you know what is wrong?

If you don't know what is wrong, how can I help you?

I can help you find out what is wrong.

Let me help you find out what is wrong.

You don't need to say a word.

Let me show you that I won't hurt you.

Let me show you that I won't hurt you, when I found out what is wrong.

If I find out what is wrong, I will tell you.

If I find out what is wrong, I will help you.

If I find out what is wrong, I will not hurt you.

If I find out what is wrong, and I don't hurt you, will you talk to me?

If I find out what is wrong, and I help you, will you tell me what is wrong?

If I find out what is wrong and I help you, will you give me a chance to love?

If I found out what was wrong, and I did not hurt you, that is love.

If I find out what hurt you, and I do not hurt you, that is love.

If I find out what is wrong and I save you, that is love.

If I love you, I will find out what hurt you and I will save you.

If I love you, I will not hurt you, I will save you.

If I love you, I will save you.

If I find out what is wrong, I will still love you.

If you are wrong, I will still love you.

If you tell me what is wrong, I will still love you.

I will still love you.

I will love you.

I love you.

But I can't help you.

I don't know what to tell you.

I don't know what is wrong.

Can time not go back?

I wish it could.

For I sure would go to that place

just to see your face.

I once was a fool

and lost the best chance

and it has come back to haunt me

Time and age has come with tears and pain

I think what if and

where are you

I hope you are well and hope you have had the best in life.

I am here, where are you?

(This is for my own best friend for life and my first fan. I love you, Dan. <3)

It's the Spring of Brooke's last year of high school. It's a nice day out. Not too hot, not too cold. The sun is high in the sky. There's not a cloud to be seen.

Brooke spends her lunch break out on the quad with her best friend, Skye, who sits by her side on a bench. Skye has such good vibes. She's bright and full of joy, much like a dog.

She has a short bob of blonde hair and bangs. Her eyes are a light blue, like the sky. Hence her name. She has a cute gold star look that day. Two are in her ears. One hangs off her neck. More shoot through the dark blue night sky on her shirt. She wears a jean skirt, black tights with half moons and blue flats to match.

Next to Skye, Brooke feels like such a slob in her PINK sweats and white tank top. Her long black hair is tied up in a bun that is a huge mess on top of her head. It looks like a rat's nest. Skye is not one to judge, though.

Brooke's crush, Jay, is the same as Skye in that way. He stands with a group of his friends on the other side of the quad. Jay is on the tall side. He has short, brown hair and light brown eyes. He has a cool look of his own. He wears a black and white skull tee. His black jeans are ripped, his black boots worn. At a glance, he may look cold, but that is just a front to keep those who might pick on him at bay. When Brooke got to know him, she saw that he was a warm, kind guy.

"So," Brooke starts. She drags out the O. Her gaze drifts from Jay back to Skye. "I think I will tell him how I feel."

"Yay!" Skye cheers. She hops in her seat and claps her hands.

"And then, I will ask him if he wants to go to prom with me." Brooke says.

"That's great!" Skye says. "You two would make such a cute pair."

"You think so?" Brookes asks, her face warm with a blush.

"I know so." Skye grins. "I thought of a good ship name for you guys: Bay. You know, like a sea bay, 'cept you will be his bae and he will be your bae. Get it?"

Brooke laughs and nods. "I got it, Skye." She eyes Jay. "You think I should tell him now?"

Skye shrugs. "If you want."

Brooke stands. "I think I will."

"Sweet! Go for it, girl. I will be right here."

If she knew she would do this, Brooke would have worn her hair down. She would have worn that cute jean dress she wore last week. "Nice dress," Jay told her then. "Looks good on you." But it was too late for that. She does not have to tell him now, but she wants to. Prom is at the end of the month and if he does say yes, she wants his suit to match her dress.

Brooke takes the tie out of her hair. She combs her hands through the knots and mess and then ties her hair back in a neat tail. "Does this look good?" she asks. "Do I look good?"

"You look great, Brooke." Skye rolls her eyes. "Now go get 'im." Skye gives her a light push, not to shove, but to coax.

Brooke takes a deep breath in, then a deep breath out. "Here I go." With her heart in her throat, Brooke walks to him. His back is to her. "Hey, Jay," she greets.

Jay turns to her.

Her heart twirls with joy.

"Hey, Brooke," he greets in his deep, smooth voice. "What's up?"

"Is it cool if I talk to you for a sec?" she asks, then eyes his friends. "Just you?"

"Sure," he says. "Be right back, guys." He waves a hand at them.

Some wave back. Some nod.

Brooke leads him off to the side.

"So, what did you want to say?" he asks.

Brooke can't quite meet his eye. She wrings her hands. "Well, I, uh..." When did her throat get so dry? She gulps. "I know it might not be your thing, so feel free to say no, but I just thought I would ask...I mean, prom is soon and...I like you, Jay. Like, I like like you. Would you like to go to prom with me?"

"Oh," he says.

That is not a good 'oh'. Brooke's heart drops. She looks at him at last. He frowns. His eyes are wide. He shifts from his right foot to his left and back once more. His right hand rubs his neck. The thumb of his left is hooked through one of his belt loops.

"Look, Brooke," he starts. "I think you're cool and all, but I don't think of you that way." Her heart breaks. Her eyes fill with tears. She blinks them back. "I just see you as a friend. I hope we could still be, you know, friends." He laughs. The sound is full of nerves. "My bad. I'm so cringe."

Brooke does not know what to say. Her mind is blank.

The bell rings.

She jumps.

"I will text you," Jay tells her, then jogs to meet up with his friends.

Skye sees this and skips to her side. "How did it go?"

Brooke cries.

"Oh, Brooke." Skye frowns and moves to hug her. Brooke hugs her back. "I feel so bad. I should not have pushed you to tell him."

Brooke shakes her head. "Don't feel bad," she says through her tears. "I told him for me. It's not like you made me tell him."

"I know, but still..." Skye trails off, but rubs Brooke's back.

They're late for their next class.

Jay texts her when she gets home. Skye is with her. They go to her room and Brooke works it out with Jay through text. Skye helps her through her tears.

'do u think we could still be friends?' he asks once more.

As much as it hurts, Brooke knows that it would hurt that much more if he was not in her life at all. So, she texts back, 'yeah.'

'cool c u @ school.'

Jay turns her down in a soft, kind way. It still hurts, though.

Skye is there to hug her once more. She stays to eat. They watch a fun chick flick when they're done. They eat ice cream. They laugh and joke and get brain freeze.

When it's time for Skye to leave, Brooke hugs her and says. "Thank you. You cheered me up big time."

"You don't need to thank me," Skye says. "That's what friends are for."

"Best friends," Brooke adds.

"For life," Skye says.

This will not be the first time a guy turns Brooke down. She will date young men in the next stage of her life. They will come and go. But through it all, Brooke knows that Skye will stay. Skye will be there for her. Brooke will be there for her, too. That is what it means to be best friends for life.

Let it be that we should see

and be it wit in your write

or just a thrill

some fright that runs after you

or a fear made real

and you

hold a laugh in or you

Hold on for dear life

Your hands.

Your skill.

Your pen*

Like the knife

Cuts to the core.

Strength in the dance

Words can say it if you let them.

Give them the chance;

Each one will mean it too!

Would life be a dream then,

if we dont live to know them,

Not to live but to think it?

Is not each view a stroke of a truth

Laid out in each wave

Time glides through

Ore the things

We act out

As the play scribes say

Life is but a stage;

Or your mom in 7th grade who states

It's just a phase!

No, not this; not these.

Most pure blocks we build up

What we are

What we made us of.

Turn not your cheek

To turn of phrase!

Let your mind

Speak from the soul

To the pen

To our age

Ane all who come next.

Let it be so.

P.S: SYLLABLE-PHOBICS BE DAMED! Each single syllables word was the wrenching pluck pain of my vocabularies short and curlies and now my eyes are watering and ive just gotta lie down a minute verbally so I have to express (colloquially) "That's fucked! This challenge was hard and I'm done.

One is all I need. More is hard to do. Much is said in less.

I hate you. I love you. I need you. Be mine.

The past and the near soon grow to more, but now is few.

They hug and kiss as two are one.

To break the whole is sad to see.

Soon they part but will join once more.

Fate thus spoke: “Sole will win all.”

As the bell tolls, two are one now and for all time.