Has my muse gone missing? Maybe.
More likely, I buried her whilst succumbing to the sirens’ call.
Singing. Watching. Sitting.
TV. Movies. Generally sitting and getting fat.
The longer I went without writing the harder it is to will myself away from the distractions.
That is… until now. Sitting in bed sick. Tired of TV. Tired of sitting.
Miserable.

It’s a small start. Pathetic.
Like me.
Silencing the silence sometimes takes sickness.

Beatrix. Bea-trix.
Beautiful broadcaster of bliss.
Cuddly, cusser, cutie-pie kid.
Un-nerve…ing. Un-swerve…ing. Un-daunt…ed?
“Get out of there,” he yells over the crashing noise
like a foreman chiding a group that is not there…
except the blank stare of his girl.

I am so tired.
It’s really hard.
This poem’s done.

A lot can happen in 22 minutes, but not if you’re asleep.
22 days. A month not quite, but usually more often than I write.

The crowed swells. Heaves.
It stretches and itches for the start.
The gun has yet to fire and I’m already tired of running.

My heart – blessed by

flowers and ponies – pretties for hair,

dresses and bows.

Pink.

Gentle hugs, fluttering eyelashes,

skipping and singing,

date night.

Pictures spoken from your heart,

hanging on my work walls.

Songs you sing float in my mind.

You’re getting big, little one.

Learning, living, daring, dancing.

I’m loving all…

Between the stars it can be quite lonely.
How can I be sure you are there?
I see their light. Their music shines bright.
But the darkness has me.
The silence enfolds me.

I just want to touch you.
Want to know you are there.
I just want to feel you.
Want to see how you care.

The books, I can read them. But some people,
you just can’t believe them.
Got to make the time to clear my mind.
To make things more clear.
I know now. I see you are here.

Traveling between darkness and light.
Somehow, I get lost. Turned around again.
Just where I thought I was going.
It never stops moving away.
Is it this time to stay?

I just want to touch you.
Want to know you are there.
I just want to feel you.
Want to see how you care.

The books, I can read them. But some people,
you just can’t believe them.
Got to make the time to clear my mind.
To make things more clear.
I know now. I see you are here.

The safety of this world eludes me.
The reality I see. It can’t be real.
I’d be a fool to believe what I see.
But I’m beat by it.
I can’t escape the heat.

It’s me again Lord. Looking for you.
How can I be sure you are there?
I see Your light. Your music shines so bright.
I just want to touch you.
Want to know you are there.
I just want to feel you.
Want to see how you care.

Dad is a game,
like football – only tackles can be deflected by tickles,
like king of the hill – kids pile to stay on top of him.
He’s a trampoline,
a gymnastics mat,
a dance partner.

Dad is sound effects,
Dad is a robot,
a pirate,
silly songs.

Dad is who we call in the middle of the night,
when we can’t sleep -
when there are invisible monsters in the room,
when we need our music,
when we want our covers made neat.

Dad greets us when we wake.
Dad gets donuts,
he makes his special toast..

Dad puts on dance night,
Dad makes pancakes,
picks out movies,
pops popcorn.

Dad carries us from the car to our rooms
when we sleep – and when we pretend to sleep.
Dad reads to us and helps us play video games.

We are the time he carries like change,
the songs he sings when life is hard,
or the job stings.

We are the glow in is heart,
to him in all these things, joy we bring.

Sky clear, and blue.
The pines twitch with anticipation,
wanting their dull green to be painted.

When will the white snow come to settle?
When will the blanket be drawn?

The Christmas holiday calls.
No cheer.
All too clear.

The cookies need their frosting.

Tiny pieces of fallen snow.
I watch them collect.
They do not feel, they do not regret.

They sit there in the cold.

Tiny specks of ice surround
the dust freezing on the ground.
They glisten. They lay still.

They wait for the sun to shine.

The warmth will call them home.
It will take them.
It will calm them.
It will change them.

Vapor will fill the sky
and return another night.

20 Hills ahead of me.
If I run past them I will miss 40 more waiting to be explored.
So, I will take patience as my friend,
Wisdom will be my guide.
I will count each step and forget to number the days that pass by.