Poems
by Bobbi Sinha-Morey
The Sharp Wind
Maybe I could find the answer
why the past still clings in her
eyes, why her lingering shadow
casts tears on the ground, wishing
she'd light up the sky like she
used to. Maybe the clue will fall
from her hands and she'll sweeten
the time with me like she's done
before. For now all I see is a slim
grey veil whenever she is near
and a helpless feeling inside grows
not knowing how to reach her.
I lay a little note on her pillow
hoping the words will break
through to her when all that is left
is just another day staring at you.
I left only half a prayer on my
windowsill aching for a whisper
from heaven, but soon the limit
on my patience will come to an
end, and when it does I'll turn
my head away from the Almighty
God, let the sharp wind whip
at my window.
It's No Surprise
On the black canvas of my dreams
he's no longer there, and I'd give
it my implicit approval that life is
now better, the memory of him now
scattered like stale cigarette ashes,
his whispers of two-faced promises
having evaporated into the air, and
in the thesaurus of hearts he's as vain
as indecision. Sometimes the mist
gives way and I think of how damn
mean he can truly be; he with rarely
a friend in the world except me, and
he with his cruel imputations; it's
no surprise his only other friend is
in the business of swindling people
out of their money and using them.
One morning I summoned my
willpower never to call him again,
wizened by a sound mind and
patience. Lonely, yes, but a sweet
air all around me like rose water
essence.
Wren Hill
My heart awakes come
the edge of morning when
once again I take my silent,
peaceful walk on Wren Hill,
let the future find me, and
I imagine my spirit like a bird
following the sun, no one nor
nothing to hold me back, only
myself to touch what's already
there. No more coloring
the petals of a white rose with
ash, no more staring fixedly
into a burning taper of wax.
I'll wipe away the shadows
that used to darken my eyes,
cleanse my worn self in
the cool river, let myself
breathe in the warm stillness
of the air and listen to the voice
of the water whisper hold onto
the gentle language of yesterday's
love and never let it leave.
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