Sunshine Nostalgia

When I'm with you
I feel like me,
But being me,
Is being scared to breathe.
Because that would mean
That i'm alive
And this is not a dream.
That this heavenly place
Can so easily turn
To heartbreak.
But it's a chance
I'm willing to take

Your Ghost

I held hands with your ghost today.

Though, you’re not dead.

Yet I felt you here, next to me

Like you always were

On this memory-stained bed.

On your back, arm behind your head

Other hand laced loosely into mine.

I felt you softly lift our hand-knot

And felt the whispered kiss 

on each of my knuckles

Like you used to. Every time.

It was as real as if you were here

But you aren't

And haven’t been

For over a year

The Soaring Cost of a Simple Breath

A New York Times article by Elisabeth Rosenthal

My darling little girl, taking

On the whole wide

World

One precious

Breath at a time.

Prescription prices rising,

But we pay

And pay

All the same.

All to help her breathe

A little wheeze,

Come on sweetie

Inhale, exhale

Please just breathe.

Asthma attacks

Or breaking the bank?

My baby’s life

Should not have a price.

But she needs

Those prescriptions.

The money is tight

But her chest is

Tighter.

She needs help,

And we need help

Giving it to her,

I won’t eat, and

I can’t

Breathe,

until

She can.

731 South Baker Street

I stand in the wide stare

Of clouded, sun-yellowed panes.

Age-worn glass, wise, weathered 
with life.

Age-wrinkled frames

Urging me to see

What they have seen.

What has happened here?

What all have they witness?

I can look into them,

Beyond the surface into

Great depths or gaze

Back at the familiar,

Naïve reflected face.

I stand in the wide stare

Of these panes

Trying to see, to learn

All of what they can teach

About the world.

Our October

This is the season where you are
In my every thought.
 When the warm, sunny summer days,
 Wane into breezy autumn afternoons.
 The trees’ tops, that were so supple
 And green not a month ago,
Crisped into a crimson canopy of color.

And the animals seem to burst to life again
After those long, lazy summer days.
Restless birds and scurrying squirrels
Prepare for the quick-coming cold season.

And friends, with smiles as wide as those carved
On the adored pumpkins, cheerfully greet
Neighbors while getting ready to visit families
During one of the all-too-rare school breaks.

I remember how much you loved
This time of year. You’d take forever
To pick out the perfect pumpkin,
And even longer to decide what to carve on it.
You always loved making caramel apples,
Even though it’s the messiest process in history.
But those caramel-covered kisses
Still make me smile, even to this day.

I bought flowers on my walk
To come see you. They’re star-shaped,
And a brilliant red, orange and gold.
The colors of the flowers we had
At our wedding.

It’s not a long walk, with pleasant view.
Waving to passers-by, smiling through the gap
between their hats and scarves.
The crisp breeze rustling the branches
Of the row of trees that stretch
Tall above me in their fiery pride.

I finally see you, spotting you out
Among your neighbors. The sky
has started to morph, to match
the colors of the season. It gives everything
a blushed, heavenly glow. Nothing looks real.

“I brought you flowers, Darling. I thought
You’d like them.” I sit down next to you,
staring off into eternal silence.