Agaya
Today the sky is blue
Tonight we’ll see it through
It’s in your own reflection
Searching for affection
For the rain was shining
Running off enchanting
Diamonds all around
A storm with not a sound
The river rushing in
Aiming for the spleen
Here you are whispering to her
That you became a believer.
And when
flowers made of shade
and cotton meadows
will no longer suffice you,
close your eyes
and look.
Mild,
let yourself be lulled
from that shadow,
that stays on you
like a wet dress.
Like the hand of a lover
when it gently caresses a flower.
Marinella Consigli
The pitter patter
Scattered across the yard in zigs and zags
Whirling hoops
Every surface an exploration
Even the pain of stubbing a toe
Was a poem
The one about getting hurt but going back out there
The one about the gentle tending of our wounds
By hands made tired with poems
Ester Robards
Agaya
Today the sky is blue
Tonight we’ll see it through
It’s in your own reflection
Searching for affection
For the rain was shining
Running off enchanting
Diamonds all around
A storm with not a sound
The river rushing in
Aiming for the spleen
Here you are whispering to her
That you became a believer.
And when
flowers made of shade
and cotton meadows
will no longer suffice you,
close your eyes
and look.
Mild,
let yourself be lulled
from that shadow,
that stays on you
like a wet dress.
Like the hand of a lover
when it gently caresses a flower.
Marinella Consigli
The pitter patter
Scattered across the yard in zigs and zags
Whirling hoops
Every surface an exploration
Even the pain of stubbing a toe
Was a poem
The one about getting hurt but going back out there
The one about the gentle tending of our wounds
By hands made tired with poems
Ester Robards