Litkicks Message Board Archive


Posted to Poetry

Sometimes I find myself waiting,
Looking out my foggy, dark window
I feel teased and languid
In a lost stupor of rekindled love
The cool winter air wakens my body.

The wind whispers and shouts as it jumps outside
Humming with vibrant intensity, it echoes
Searches inside of me, drills down deep within
It boars out my inner child, my small frail body.

I sit, wait, and look towards the distance
The silhouettes sway and wave as the wind searches them
Finds them and others, shows them a sparkling relief
A shining glimmering light burning within.
It glows and pierces tiny strands of life into each one
Leaving them restless and waiting to burst out of its roots
Free its self and become a part of the night.

I still remember my childhood relief,
My get away.
It was tall white and exhilarent, made my night awaken,
Tearing out the once taught knot entangled within.
It sat with me as the wind howled and lurked outside
Scratching at the windows.
Comforted me when it was too loud to bear.

Was I once so childish.
Naïve, lost, and innocent.
But are these bad things to be at such a ripe age?
It can’t be so wrong to have no sense of reality
Left lost and stranded in such a hostile life, shielded from the hostility
Is there reason to bruise a ripening fruit?
Or can it be left to prosper and spread its wings