you know I can't
remember how many times
I had written that poem for my
friends and all in the strangest
places since it was on the
day I created it that
it just had to
fall in
that
awful
winter
of ninety one
it was supposed to be a
hit ya know I mean I was really
going to be somebody at least
a name some where in
print

days became hazy
colored vines on shadowed
lines grew cold and frigid we
waited our ride outside
the warm of the
station

despairing sighs
hung on the bitter mist
totally destroyed from the
unexpected altercation
subtracting all
the

juicy specifics it was
by far the most heart rending
time ever spent for Missy and
I literally extinguished there
was little to no choice
but to watch
the

spirit
from teary
eyes

fall folks bought
presents for each and all the
carolers sang oh come all ye faithful for
the wealthy out front of Macy’s where only a
few blocks down from the gaity we sat staring
into an emptiness wondering what really had
happened it was a mystery actually that I
even took notice that evening as
these two girls played
make

believe

no doubt the scenario was
taken from visiting someone and
sometime later having to go away
I was taken at the time with the
astonish of wisdom and I
was absolutely sure
I'd rewrite
it

somehow

I knew there wouldn't be enough time to have
it anywhere near completed 'til some
time after the first snow melt I
had no idea how many
times and all the
emotion
it
would
run through
on the drafts to follow

I was overwhelmed & before I knew
what was going on I had well over twenty
different writes all with a light of their own
I should have ran off a few copies way
back and had them available

for

whom ever to avoid a
choosing or the
creating
of

yet

another scribble yeah I
found out later
too that I
had
a
little
help from
college friends that
didn't want to see us go but
there was nothing the sparkle from
within had been mysteriously
taken - you know

even my mother
may she rest in peace
called from what felt like light
years away & told me she
felt some thing was
terribly wrong
& paid
our
fare
thee wells

from thence came
the forging of faery tales I
don't know the children but I felt
obliged to make mention of
them for it was they
who on the
fly

directed acted and wrote

faery tales

~ ~ ~

I noticed some five
and twenty years had past
and flown and yet there's so
many yet to come but I can
still hear and see them
clearly caring on
their little
girl

hearts
with little girl
tears

that
fell upon a
not so hearing ear

why do we have to go away..?

~ ~ ~

the original draft
written in calligraphy in my
own hand had drifted far from
my knowing it later came to
be the work would not
be discarded as
I figured

but it continued
floating in the misty confine of
which had only I a fleeting glimpse
not my favorite reminisce I tried to
speculate where it might have
landed but I must admit
such conjecture
was futile
still

there did remain
a mystery of out of who’s
hands might one day hold my
faery tale which of course you
knew would be unsettling for
me I knew however my
apprehensions
may

never be allayed so I
closed the journal realizing
perhaps faery tales maybe
wasn't to be written may
be it couldn't be
written

if
you could
have only seen you
would have never believed the
astonish - when after some twenty years

it came to rest again in my hand
scary or faery

?