Soft music plays in the background,
soothing.
Steaming coffee held in hand
warming.
Watching cold November rains
drenching the lasting autumnal colors
bleaching everything to ashen grey.
Summer’s warm rays gone,
replaced with winter’s cruel winds
and blowing snow.
Spring’s rebirth, that is what I wait for.
For in those brief moments,
I can recapture the belief of love ever after.
The artist’s easel set to southern light
a portrait only half in the making.
Shadows on the edge of a damaged soul
staked like prey in a velveteen web.
Broad strokes insinuate a half filled form
yet blackness shrouds the face.
Where did the time go my love?
Why have you not claimed what is yours?
A writer’s pad set to the left
passages of lyrics
half formed, making no sense.
Tear stained for the pain
that seeps through my pores.
For dreams I write,
so I can pretend
that you are mine again.
Insanity bleeds from me
my mind has become a blank blur.
Numb to all but this heartbeat
that flutters beneath my breast.
Your heartbeat.
Your promise.
The one that said
you would always return to me.
Beyond my reach,
beyond my door,
in the real world you dwell;
far from me and my torture.
©Jay-lyn Doerksen
October 1/17
The Wonderful and Wacky World of One Single Mom 