i woke to a summer breeze

I woke to a summer breeze,
white curtains billow and wave up, good morning

Cat by the window
staring at my yawn

I rise and take in the fresh air
and he does the same
with his fur casting grey arches on the wooden floor

Back in the day

Back in the day, the summer sun
italian ices on the run
red and sticky down my arm
sunlight golden rays were warm
Water from hydrants flare on streets
rainbow showers can't be beat
Grandpa playing dominoes
Grandchild digging dirt like gold
Rubber mats and monkey bars
Music blasting from the cars
Dollar pizza slice for lunch
Home through piles of leaves that crunch
Ride my bike around for a cruise
Say goodbye to summer blues
School free days where the park was home
Back in the day, an ode, a poem


***
There was a continued posting that happened in one of my favorite website haunts. People reminisced about "Back in the Day" when they were growing up. Nostalgia is for those who appreciate life lived, I think.

Walk Among the Dead

I see a killer's eyes
and feel no hate.
I am drained from staring
at the past.

Walk among the dead
and feel life
surround my being,
as if souls
can touch my own.

I fly among shadows of clouds
that keep me dreaming
of cotton and water,
like blue liquid threads
thick as blood,
weave my shimmery scenes
beyond the moon.

I envision a planet
red dot against black,
as evidence of laughter
from a time stood still.

We were once there
as now we are not.

The beams of light carry
as torches time,
makes the stars smile
again as it fades
into tomorrow,
like the darkness
safely tucked away
in the folds of my mind.

the night of a dream

chasing purple clouds
looking up to see
visions like dreams to the sky

it was pretty she said
wishing over connecticut
deep in the deep blue fields

he asked how far
as heaven it seems that
this so true to me

reaching out with my mind
and touching it tight
words flow like curious beams

a mind screen
the faith of believing
the instant connection
in a split of a lifetime it seems

they laughed and slipped
and away they played
and seeped into the night of a dream


***
Inspiration requires images. These images came from running across the bridge as the evening settles in, and speaking with a friend who relocated to another state, giving me a glimpse of what his life is now like.