It’s never really about
The explosion of light
Or even the aaahhhs
And it’s never about
All of the expectations
It’s only ever about
Feeling like a child
Again once again yet
Again this is what
Fireworks and love does
To and for us
Category: Family
ConsiderThis
And we think that
All we want is
Love but what about
Living this world promises
Like a horny teenager
To respect us in
The morning but with
Each morning comes their
Broken promises leaving me
To wonder just how
Dispensable does this world
Consider me to be
Nightmare
I don’t think about
My past I leave
It alone like the
Sleeping devil it is
At least at rest
It’s no longer conjuring
But during my sleep
Is when my innocence
Is stolen like selfish
Uncles to nephews and
Nieces pawed at undressed
And used for their
Own wicked incestuous pleasure
In sleep is when
My demons dance leaving
Me to wonder if
Because of my own
Behavior here on earth
If eternity like sleep
Will be damned just
Like my nighttime’s are
MorningCigar
This morning’s sky
Reminds me of
My uncle’s cigar
Many years ago
In Port Washington
Hanging there against
The backdrop of
His thin beard
The center glowed
Crimson almost winking
Surrounded by gray
Ash it hung
There then gone
Between his laughter
There then gone
Between the clouds
Soon to be
All but ash
As he stubbed
It out like
The sunrise does
To the dawn
MorningMemories
It’s really only ever
The little simple things
Like the gurgle hiss
And spit of a
Kettle set to boil
As the first glow
Of day washes over
Last nights late snow
And chickadees bounce and
Bob skitter and slide
On the frozen birdbath
Like children wearing skates
As I spoon splash
And stir dark roast
Into a now warmed
Coffee press watching as
Grounds drop and emerge
Like we did that
One July day so
Very very long ago
In ponds out back
This is my morning
Of memories every day
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 