Poetry

New Day

I'd hope to recall later

Things in the hundreds I've done,

Be one of life's skaters,

See every rise of the sun.

Whether of black or of white,

They rise the same way,

Up to a peak in the height,

Then back down for the day.

I'd hope to recall later

Awe-some sights I had seen,

The wide jaw-span of a gator,

Needle-pointed, white teeth.

The extent of each waterfall,

The very warmth or chill of each day,

The way the mere clouds crawl

cross the sky each blue day.

I hope to recall after,

The sweet, simplistic things,

A small child's laughter,

The beating of bird's wings.

The raw colour in a rainbow,

New, fresh in the sky,

Continuous, ear-piercing, low

chirping crickets as you lie.

I hope to recall soon

the wonders inside

Mars, Venus, the Moon,

The places they tried to hide.

Closed away to be treasured

by the Mother herself,

We are left to think whether

or not it has wealth.

I hope to recall one day

the beat of love's steady heart,

Echoed feelings that compare that way

to the feel of old's spring's start.

A rose with thorns,

No less the rose,

But until it mourns,

Will be the path that love chose.

I hope to recall soon

the very whistle of the wind.

The effervescence of the moon

at night, where it sings pinned.

The waves that crash upon the sand,

The misty pink of new day's breath

engulfs, captures, dissolves the land

'til nothing but the day is left.