PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

TO A ?

like a moonbeam

sprinkling lampposts and concrete and well-manicured lawns

with transcendental bits of mystery and promise

my world lies dusted with the rare enchantment that hangs in his wake...

curious somethings glom themselves to my daily existence

a crystal or a diamond

two rocks

and some Red Hapi seeds

I have never put any real stock

in things I can see

unless it is a dance or a smile

or the sky mellowing to a ghoulish yellow before a storm

but they add a delicate sort of mysticism to the air around me

so I let them stay

and I get the distinct impression in the mornings

that I do not understand them at all

perhaps they are simply biding their time

until they can return to him

(maybe as a flower

or a pulse of energy)

but really

I cannot understand why they wanted to leave him in the first place

and like a moonbeam strikes wet pavement

washing away the layers of mundane, baked-in by daytime hours

I think he may have saved me

from forsaking magic

when the danger was greatest