And with one
Quick stroke of
A freshly dipped
Pen came a
Thin dark and
Scratchy word love
It either frightens
Or it invites
But never calms
Or quiets hearts
Unless of course
It can’t be
Heard or read
And by then
Remains as silent
As the snow
Just as cold
Read it and
Hear it now
And in spring
And then summer
We are alone
Popping and absorbing
Sweet the rain
And warm sun
But then fall
Arrives as bitter
Chilling winds which
Tug and pull
Us harshly limb
From limb until
Torn we tumble
Down landing upon
Each other learning
That we all
Aren’t that different
We simply think
That we are
A photograph like
A mirror reflects
You in my
Eyes do you
See yourself in
My twinkling or
Perhaps in the
Smile that breaches
The levees of
Propriety and chagrin
Do you not
Miss your shadow
As it follows
Me now instead
Or do you
Miss your laughter
As it rings
In my heart
This you’ve become
Less for you
More to me
Poems live like
Life they blink
And inhale exhale
And sigh sometimes
Roaring while at
Others weeping they
Are my children
Gaining friends on
Their own triumphs
And heartbreak theirs
One day they
Will all breathe
On their own
And still the
Teasing continues like
A toddler with
A Jack-in-the-box you
Wind me up
And out I
Jump to the
Sound of glee
Or you like
The school bus
Which I patiently
Await I hear
From afar wagging
Knowing that soon
We will play
On this sunny
And warm afternoon
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 