A.W. Books & Poetry

Your blue lotus touch

On a stained glass door

In the January blush

Carmel gaze meets mossy oak

There’s something about me

But you don’t know for sure

And I scare you just enough

To where you want to know more

When the widower bowed on the empty street

You laughed and said you didn’t know you were with the Queen

But It was too late

I felt it in the wind

You wanted to run

And I wanted to fall in love

Surveyed me like

A veiled corner in a barren room

Unsure if there was a ghost

Staring back at you

So you creep up with a pistol drawn

Just to peel yourself away

And it shows

Like old tint on a Chevy-

Cut to the scene

On the old dirt street

Standing in a dust trail again

It’s not the first time I’ve been here

Chuck Taylor prints etched in the clay

Turned it into a memorial

For a pretty doll that must be broken,

That’s what the neighbors say,

But I’m facing North in the same place

Hoping you’ll come back

And tell me you’re not afraid.

Now, all I have is what I wanted to say,

And dreams that you actually had the spine

To get to know the girl behind the pen

Or at least to ponder some of Frost’s rhymes

For the road less traveled is surely worth

The fear and the time.

~Annalise