like a frog springs atop  a lily pad,
her enthusiastic essence was as scad.
like an infant sprawls into a deep sleep,
her appearance was an embodiment of babysheep.

like a cordintated kitchen fork blends with the spoon
we both accumulated as the exquisite winters moon.

on a decadent day,when we will reunite,
she would still guffaw at my scrappy jokes
the void will transform into light
when your gaiety will crash the plight.

I once was a child
Walking next to seemingly endless brick walls
Running my tender fingertips against the rough edges of the blocks
Slapping my tender feet against the hard sidewalk
Discovering a surprise
Threads of green with yellow stars on top
I once was a child
Who thought those weeds were the most beautiful flower I’d ever seen

© 2025 SincerelyJoanWrites. All rights reserved.

Endless heat of short skirts,
in a boiling lust-ful summer,
One piece and the bikinis
are a woman's right to flirt
and I lap it up, softened hammer,
Conversation starter, teases.

Here comes the side-walks
where we laughed and talked
and you grew on me with lagoon
eyes, passionately shootout saloon.
but yours were gentle, kind,
and the peace can't unwind
so fast forward,
to a toy that can be winded
and memories fed & heard.

Young love wrapped up
like a present and fought
to entertain and surprise
from dusk to daylight.

Man oh man, it’s been too long
Since I heard your piano songs
I used to hate them everyday
I’d rip my hair out when you’d play

Each time i’d take a bit to read
Your notes would play, my ears would bleed
They’d send me right around the bend
To loonie bins and back again

But man I miss your stupid songs
Though they’d have any crowd soon gone
To hear them once again someday  
I’d sure cut off my arm n’leg

I never got much time to sleep
While hearing your piano screech
Each time I’d try to take a nap
You’d give those notes a violent smack!

But man, I miss your slammin’ hands
Though no one’s ears were quite a fan
If you could play for me once more
My smile’d reach right to my core

Each time I’d ask for “quiet, please!”
You’d play like cats dancing on keys
Those horrid notes would never stop
Like nails scraped down on board for chalk

But man, I miss those melodies
Though they’d have made a deaf man flee
If you could spare just one more tune
Your notes would fill this sorry room

Man oh man, it’s been so long
Since I last heard you play a song
I used to beg your notes would go
But now I hate this hollow home

I hope you play still in the clouds
And make birds from blue skies fall out
Go, keep on gifting garish tunes
I know you brought them to your tomb

A pair of glasses, shattered,
On the floor of a room that remembers nothing.
They weren’t mine, but I miss them anyway.
No one ever claimed what they left behind.

There was no sound,
Just the cold shape in the corner.
A chair pulled slightly back,
As if someone thought twice, then disappeared.

Dust settled like it had been listening.
I traced something into the glass with my finger.
A name? A date?
It didn’t stay long.

There are things I meant to say.
And one thing I never should have.
A hand I almost reached for, I shot in the dark.
A book for all, a book for none.

once upon a murky gleaming, while I sat in peaceful dreaming,
haunted by the golden streaming of a sun I knew before;
while i lingered, senses slipping, sudden came a memory, dripping;
dripping soft as footsteps; tipping o’er a childhood door.
“’tis a dream,” i whispered faintly, “just a dream, and nothing more,
    just the dawn, and nothing more.”

ah, i well recall the hour, twin in soul and form and flower,
two in gait, in skirt and collar, bound for days that soared and tore.
hand in hand we walked unknowing, where the amber sky was glowing,
past the railing, wind still blowing, through a world we’d yet explore,
past the gleam and fading laughter down a bridge of evermore...
    gone, it seems, forevermore.

and the warm and wistful trailing of her shadow, faint and failing,
fell across my thoughts like ashes from a hearth now cold and sore.
strangely stilled was all her love, changed her tone to aching woe,
gone the warmth, replaced by woe, cold and clean behind closed doors.
“speak,” i begged, “the one I cherished, has she vanished to some shore?”...
   but the silence answered, “nevermore.”

then I climbed a roof, forsaken, sunset gold and soul mistaken,
there to gaze on roofs and fences of a life i held before.
she, the girl with pigtail braiding, now in poise and poise parading,
spoke in tongues of grown detaching, eyes that sought my own no more.
“has the night devoured her laughter, locked it past some inner door?”
      still the air replied, “no more.”

o, how softly sang the twilight! once we shared this selfsame skylight,
now i watch alone, in silence, as the orange embers pour.
roof and ridge in shadow yawn, and all the girl i knew was gone,
changed to stranger sharp and drawn, who held my hand no more.
and the sky, once wide and wondrous, seemed to whisper from its core:
    “you shall find her; nevermore.”

was it time that drew the curtain, or some sorrow, slow but certain?
did she walk ahead in yearning for a self she fancied more?
did i falter? was i clinging? while her soul began its winging,
winging toward a world where union withered into folklore?
still I searched the golden fading, still I reached, forever sore,
      she is not the girl before.

so i sit, alone, in grieving, sun and shadow interweaving,
all the bridges burnt and silent that we crossed in days of yore.
and within that glow descending, I saw not her form, unbending,
but the ghost of all pretending we had ever been before.
now my soul, beneath that sunset, whispers softly evermore:
      “she is gone, and nothing more.”

When I was kid,
I’d look up at the sky and wave
At the airplanes passing by,
I’d wave down from an airplane
Hung up high,
I’d wave and think myself seen.
I remember being seven years old and
The hot air balloon operator said
To keep all limbs inside the vehicle
And my parents kept nudging me to the middle–
Safe and nested.
But I didn’t stay there for long, no
I pushed out to the edge, on tiptoes to
Look down at the great big
Everything.
Only half the thrill is fear of falling.
The rest is how it feels to float.