The Wave


 

She turned to wave
As she tumble-skipped by
The sweep of her hand
May have rippled life
A million miles away.

A gesture to swallow
The hate of the world
Only a nightmare
Cheese before bed
As her mother pulled
Her along.

She missed, though may
Have launched the love
That coursed through
In a channel of lava
But had she retained
Her own?

What woman lay
With constant shoes
A thing of fear
As she sat there alone –
How had life changed
The view?

She missed the wave
But heat was not
Lost too.

The fourth one
Has many more
To do.

Light On


Found an old simple poem! Maybe better spoken…

Sleeping with the light on
And I’m no child.
My night’s been wilder
Than the deepest jungle
At midnight and I’m riled
For it’s silly to be
Sleeping with the light on
When I’m no child.
Hiding under blankets
And I’m no child.
My dream was rockier
Than the steepest mountain
Walk at midnight
When friends are snakes
That come for a squeeze
So I’m ill at ease
Without my blankets tonight.
Tears on my pillow
And I’m no child,
I’m big and tall
But rolled in a ball
For I’ve joined the strangest circus in town
And if I’m no child
Then I’m the star clown:
Clutching at blankets and needing the lights
To get me through these pitch-black nights.