When I write
These to you
You have said
It’s like whispers
In the dark
Or notes slipped
Quietly to you
During the day
Reminding you that
I am thinking
Only of you
And simply that
No one else
Will ever know
The secrets contained
Between these lines
Month: July 2020
Truth (to Bean)
Burdened like boughs
Laden by late
April snow bending
But not snapping
Truth lies heavily
Often shed quietly
During those darkest
Moments of outrage
Difficult to lift
Impossible to sweep
It remains there
Until the sun
Once again breaks
Warming me knowing
What you said
You said lovingly
Not from spite
Nor from injury
Simply because you
You of all
Trusted I’d listen
MomChildren (to Bean)
Away you are
With the few
You hold dearest
Lounging languidly now
Snacking on fruits
And sweet vegetables
A lake lays
Before you there
Forests and valleys
Enjoy your time
With those three
Miracles of yours
I know they
Make you happier
Than any other
Anguish
Every so often
I venture downstairs
To that room
Where the things
Are all hidden
Candle in hand
I rummage through
Times long ago
Push aside some
Let others go
Until I spy
That one thing
Which causes me
The most anguish
For it’s only
There in that
That I remember
What I’d lost
Then tucked away
It goes again
In the hope
That one day
I’ll forget it
Along with you
Bathing (to Bean)
Your smile radiates
Like space heaters
On cold mornings
Quickly switched on
Throwing its heat
And enveloping me
Your deep brown
Slightly slanted eyes
Are like candles
In dark rooms
Drawing me closer
Your glow hovers
Like delicate halos
I shall not
Speak of bodies
For that I
Do not see
When upon you
I gaze bathing
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 