I sometimes feel
Like a prairie
Flower in the
Hands of a
Forlorn lover plucking
My petals in
Pursuit of love
As though my
Own beauty is
Forgotten in lieu
Of theirs does
He not see
Me my prettiness
Instead I’m simply
A thing found
Faraway upon which
To bemoan and
After used far
Uglier than when
This first began
When I hear
DeBussy’s Nocturne my
Heart which I
Wear on my
Sleeve bleeds saturating
My arm crimson
As clear tears
Well and roll
Wetting my lips
I miss those
Long lost loves
Like the kite
Caught in headwinds
Snatching it from
My hands taking
It somewhere else
Now a limp
String with nowhere
To fly I
Simply sit and
Imagine its life
In someone else’s
Hands bringing joy
They say that
Classical music resonates
Within our bodies
It’s melody is
Tuned to ours
Just like love
It’s harmony or
Thunderous crescendos and
Rests its syncopation
And heartbeats drum
Within each of
Us listen to
The simple song
Of love for
It too resonates
Deep with us
Friends and lovers
Are not distinct
One naturally bleeds
Into the other
Just like watercolors
Creating a hazy
Squinting image which
Requires its study
To understand meaning
Sometimes my friends
Become my lovers
For love like
Pastels blend and
Create a beautiful
Ghostly image like
A ship far
Out to sea
Or heavy woods
At the cusp
Of pastoral prairies
I love lovers
I cherish friends
Combined they make
Wonderfully beautiful art
And like a
Child awakening to
An overnight snowfall
The sight of
You makes me
Swoon with adventure
Sleds and snowballs
Mittens and cocoa
Of crackling fires
And smooth whiskey
While I watch
The fire’s fingers
Dance across cheekbones
And light up
The twinkling galaxies
In your eyes
You are my
Own late-night snowfall
Let us play
With gleeful abandon
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 