quod vide

beresford, new brunswick
spring 2016

summer sun rose, with humid air,
pearly blanket that holds on to every bit of heat.

we had no spring to speak of,
not the ones with cherry blossoms scattered on street,
for each step to be dyed pale pink.

nevertheless, the leaves came.
they unfurl, grow, towards the sun,
unafraid, no waiting, certainty.

tulips will fade soon, 
lights long and hot, water glass covered in dew.
mirage. on the road. cars. houses. people.

departing soon, to east to east to east
where i will chase the sun,
of stories, not of mine, but to make it mine.

but for now,
im a pool of blue.
a small puddle of blue.
but it will lift, like a fog,
once i am airborne.

if you blinked you wouldve missed spring.
like a bubble, it was, this year.
started so tiny, filled up with hope and air,
and it popped. gone.
it was beautiful.
and it wont ever return again.

when i go back to my heart to revisit,
it will change,
e v e r y t i m e 

fallacy of memory.

but i will take a small piece,
melt it on my tongue,
like a small piece of chocolate,
bitter and sweet.
it will be beautiful.

an ending is a necessity
and i am slowly marking it.
as if
defining where the sky ends
and water starts,
as i saw
on empty beach of east coast,
where sun turned away and sunk into
the myriads of clouds.

a period.

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