The reflections of light on water played in her heart when she looked at him. He wasn't the beautiful sort by any means, but his intensity and smart wit more than compensated for his aesthetic shortcomings. She loved an odd, ugly type with black shoes and white socks pulled up to mid-calf- the kind of person who seemed like each movement was a question or a threat. Henry was all these things in spades. He could never meet your gaze for more than a few seconds before casting it just off your face, a little above or to the side. And when he laughed at something, which indeed was rare, he seemed to lose control of his body- almost as if his brain hadn't told his limbs what it was reacting to and his limbs, startled by the overwhelmingly loud and boisterous noise, were trying to escape. It was a funny thing to see and she tried daily to strike his funny bone- for it was her favorite and most important goal.

She was the type to fill journals with poetic musings- and I mean journals. Plural. Many plurals. It's like her mind was constantly on fire with thought and her hands, pen and paper a slave in the effort to put it out. Not that it could ever be put out- not that it should. It was, at first, his favorite thing about her. So mysterious. What was she writing in those things? He had to find out. It look him a long time to be allowed entry into one but in the meantime he found other favorite things about her- like how comfortable she was just being- anywhere- just present. She would look you in the eyes and it would be terrifying because you had her full attention. If she was looking at you, it was in the eyes, with open ears and open heart, with every thought anchored on you. He was not brave enough to hold her gaze. He did not trust what she would find there. 

I know I have potential
Growing up I thought that was enough
I equated it with destiny
Look what I can do-
I've sparkly hands
A gift
I shall do great things in life
So much looking forward to
Then, future came
As the future does
And potential grew but 
Stayed potential-
No blossoms, not a bloom-
My potential started sickening me
Like curdled milk
It felt a waste
Why didn't more come of it?
What more could I do?
I started hearing stories of
People dying
Dreams unrealized
I'd never considered that
A possibility before
It didn't seem fair
To love and reach and work
And fail
Such empty, humiliating, cruelty
Death - a
Life confined
I had to readjust
Perspective to find a better spin
Become a bit more gracious
To a process beyond my control
I put things now as such-
Or try to do-
The doing is the thing
And wherever and however
And as often as you can and
For the greater good, not just
Your own - to endeavor
to live and love and create joy.

Everything was old

Each morning
The fresh dew
Made it glisten
Like it was new again
And my memory
Being foggy from
Just waking
Could believe
That life was fresh
To me
But by noon
The high sun
Had sucked up
All the droplets
And moist
Became mold
Became old
Familiar territory
Memories remembered
Unpleasant things
Stuck to me like the
Blades of grass
That stained me
Green
And sky and earth
Were as far apart
As I remembered them
My dreams untouchable
The earth grounding me
I asked it
What I’d done so wrong
To be stuck in mud
Unmovable
While my eyes could feast
On lofty blues
Freedom in sight
But arms too short
To pull me up

Dirt
The brown appearance
Offensive smell
With bugs that slim and crawl
You don’t want anything
To do with it
At all
Yet, there you are
Married with
The force of gravity
Kept down

Sky
The free expanse
Of blue and white
And purple
With flight of birds
And warmth of sun
It seems almost
An obscene wealth
Of goodness
Yet people in skies
Who fly in machines
Never seem lost
In the wonder
Of it

I wonder if the machines
Having been built
On dirt
Have clouded them
Or have they
Who have been built
Up from dirt
Been tarnished so
From the start
To never be able
To appreciate the
Wonders of the sky

I think about these things
And get down
During the passing days
Each one quicker than the last
Each sky coming and going
And never in my
grasp