by Dee Newman
The old weather vane
vainly awaits the sunshine
as mist becomes rain.
Fear of approaching
the edge is as disabling
as falling from it.
A streak of sunlight
slowly climbs the old oak tree
and then . . . disappears.
From one brief moment
of shapes and shadows the mind
perceives perfection.
When two chemical
substances come together
they’re often transformed.
Lured like a wild goose
with treachery and decoy
just to be shot down.
Both careless regard
and habitual negligent
foretell the future.
What was once so warm
and inviting turns to ice
and then . . . melts away.
The old moth tatters
his wings against her screen till
she turns off her light.
Clinging to the past
will surely limit future
possibilities.
May I forever
dance free of expectancies
including my own.
No flower can live
picked and pressed between pages
of discarded books.
I should have known from
the beginning that she was
too Good to be True.
Though I may be free,
I feel like a dry dead leaf
blowing in the wind.
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Cool site, Dee....I enjoyed reading...it would be a nice collection to publish!
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