You're smooth salty skin;
I shed you when I grew.
Dear lost shell of my past,
distant embrace empty of me,
peel yourself back on
I'm small as I was.
The stars shine less than bright
when I lack your eyes to see them with;
my petals droop without your touch,
and I am alone.
I wander blindly through the night,
and wither under the chiming skies
dim with the despair of solitude.
I cannot last without your sight,
your way of cherishing this silence.
Our roots thirst in seperate gardens;
two lonely wild flowers,
we grow towards each others' light,
and all that shines shines twice as bright.
Symphony, you're a tickled clarinet--
or you flute if I conduct you to,
but I don't know the score.
Squeeze out those sweet strains before I forget
to cue a breath at each phrase on cue,
and demean your demeanor with demands.
I long to listen, but of music I've no more.
You: play on
as I drop my baton,
applause the only music in my hands.
2007 Jason Paul Fox