The Yellow Bus
Days, briefly displayed
like primary flash cards
answers on the flip side of time
should have
could have
chalks life's slate with mistakes.
Youth's journal remembers
wisdom scribbled in sacrificial red,
who
what
when
where and why I am alone.
Insecure tears
teeter on the edge of the playground
eyes, glossed with a sadness
born of disappointment
more minus than plus
more sorry than not
more required than electives
more pain than joy.
Lost is a word for absent
though I'm not,
I wear loss like skin
passion callused by indifference
somewhere between hot and cold
practicality lives
Yet, after doing the math,
I'd ride the yellow bus again.
It's been an incredible journey
With collected change
the road to love has been paved
with a better understanding
of how much it costs
to get there.
Copyright 5/29/00
January Grey
All rights reserved
The Long Way Home
Learning to live without you
has become a subtle diversion
like a witty substitute teacher
or opening the door to a party,
discovering I'm the guest
of honor
surprised,
that your departure
bestowed unopened gifts
top shelf, left hand corner
in my heart
fingers folded
thumbs together
is not the church
without a steeple
it's me
holding my own hand
when smiles frown tears
seeking strength to laugh
in spite of uncertainty
in the face of adversity,
because I still remember
the mischief in your eyes
the little engine
on the crooked track
follows the straight and narrow
because of your encouragement
now, the applause comes from within
just knowing
you are up around the bend
where you've always been,
taking the long way home
one foot in heaven, and still
planting seeds of inspiration
in my heart.
...In Memory of my Dad
Copyright 6/8/00
January Grey
All rights reserved
