Friday, June 15, 2012

Outside Friends

A forlorn boy,
dipping his cookie,
slowly into this milk,
throwing himself a party.

While his mother stood,
in the door's frame,
staring at her son,
her pen in mouth.

A child of the rain,
who spoke water,
and the flood pours,
from him, forever.

For infinity grand,
does the wan face,
heed the Earth,
speaking, loving dirt,
which shields his toes,
from sunburn.

Yet, when he'd reach,
for sunlight,
the sunny friend,
smiles on him.

In the dark space,
happy birthday murmurs,
waft to his mother.

Yet, she cannot know,
her son touches the rain.
She cannot know,
its caresses, its love
to him, when he must,
open his mouth,
cannot know,
the rainwater of tears,
when he cried,
will be soothed,
by the rain,
lapping the pane,

When the sun shines on him, and he smiles,
how could she know,
the sun outside smiles?

That beauty treks where sadness lies.

The pointed face,
of dirt crust and,
is, in reality,
When her son cries,
she will never,
be privy to,
his life,
because she cannot comfort his pain.

Loneliness does not,
cannot settle in his
wild, raging, exotic, pumping flesh,
or head . . .
because the boy has friends.

He may not interact,
with her world,
but he is,
of another,
enlivened, imaginative,
where fairies, and enormous dragons with
pearly scales,
talk to him ~

Even though, now,
and then the boy will
take a leave,
from her,
to cry-

the boy does live here.
Not with his mother.

Rainwater, beautiful rainwater.
It will take his spirit to
its cold,
which its tickling
fingers wash away,
the aching for a friend,
even though his tears,
so much like
their droplets,

He holds it all in his jaw,
around his mother,
just waiting for his,
wishing he can visit,
his friends outside.

                                                               Please- let him visit his friends.

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