They are not
Snowflakes, they are
Daisy petals;
They swirl, they drift
They form
Quicksilver puddles
Around my feet
As I search, wander,
Grope for you
I am blinded by
Their cool white fragrance.
You watch me,
Your sharp jade eyes
Pouring around the edge
Of the redwood tree
That is your hideaway
Hot eyes like lasers
Burn through
Swirling velvet mist,
Lighting a path
From me to you
I toddle, glide, and try to run
But slip & trip
[pungent
Green stems & leaves
Are so slick
My eager feet
Slide away from you
& the distance
To your sharp jade eyes
Becomes forever;
They are not petals, they are
Doves’ wings;
Their hush and flutter
Muffle
My expiring cry;
Damn reality of my days; I wake
In another snowstorm
–David Harris
David Harris has been a contributing poet
to Street Sense since its first issue in November 2003.
He was formerly homeless for a number of years
and was a writer with Miriam’s Poets. Please e-mail
your comments to David at: [email protected].
