There is this
Way that we
Talk like cooking
Together gathering this
And that dicing
And then tossing
Them to boil
The intoxicating aromas
Of ideas simmering
Like playing a
Lazy game of
Catch lobbing ideas
At one another
Like a baseball
As we sit
Down to devour
This thing that
We created together
A saucy repartee
And someone did
At long last
Use my words
To contact me
Like the echo
In the canyon
Bumpity bump bump
Typed came back
Like a letter
Returned to sender
And I knew
That these words
That I write
Found their way
Finally to another
How many times
Have you been
Thrown from a
Horse he asked
A horse never
A metaphor horse
Far too many
Times I replied
And what do
You do then
He cautiously asked
I walk back
To the paddock
To find another
Far less ornery
I replied laughing
One like me
He shyly asked
One like you
I said trotting
Hopefully once again
As I age
And more things
Appear behind me
Like missed exits
I am confident
That things remain
Still in front
Yet to be
Explored and discovered
And like that
One little leaf
Way out there
On skinny branches
I do know
In order to
Find anything new
I must then
Choose to remain
Always looking ahead
And never content
With things behind
It’s only ever
After not necessarily
Happily ever after
When I awaken
To something new
Around the old
Me like an
Ice storm coating
Everything in a
Brittle tender mask
Weighing me down
And snapping things
Like heart strings
Plucked from outside
Inside making thudding
Dead sounds like
That other shoe
That I’ve been
Waiting to drop
When friends rush
In like tiny
Firemen carrying buckets
Of water to
Not douse but
Free me from
My now icy
Self taking me
Back to someplace
Safe and warm
Sans the ice
Plucking then those
Same strings making
Them sing again
Now with laughter
Some times you
Live but most
Times you don’t
