She gathered
tulle and ribbons
to create
the most perfect gift,
where the two of them would unite
to protect the insides,
to hide from others
the chance of disappointment.
The more she gathered,
the more she prepared,
the more she fought to avoid
things that were destined to happen,
the more they came.
Pulling back the ribbon
on her handcrafted gift,
she now sees
how empty it is inside.
it’s right underneath, brewing under my chest this quiet whisper circling- not spiraling downwards as i often tend to, but in the way a gentle breeze swirls a handful of leaves and they flutter away. there’s an inquisitive nature to it where there is somehow a sense of magic at hand, and yet somehow there must be a reason to it all. a scientific process that always begets the same results after following a specific pattern of events. the snow will always melt with the touch of warm air. the birdsong will always bring a sense of relief for the return of Spring. and the lovebirds will rejoice after surviving the long Winter, nuzzling up to the love that kept them warm.
the looking glass possesses fragments of a view. surrounding figures and forms collapse as our fingertips meet. yet, steady is the scene encompassing pieces of you.
limbs undulate tenderly
with the slightest breeze.
wildflowers spread their seeds
dropping impressions
attempting to gain greater visibility.
such bits linger out of view,
boulders that were planted eons before,
torrential rains that flooded these plains
leaving ridges deep and wide.
yet, this singular slice,
the object of my heart’s deep affection,
is purely the only matter
that requires my line of direction.
Thanks to Robert Charboneau for this poem. Although my blog and book are both titled ‘Coffee Shop Sessions’ this is the first poem that is actually about coffee! Follow Robert on Twitter or on his blog for more of his poetry and drawings.