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Tuesday's Butterfly
Tuesday's harmless in this small town,
panoramic visions of business ventures
lost somewhere in early rushes of Ohio city;
sipping coffee on the couch,
my baby girl sleeps
in the playpen to my right,
dried white paint cans
in the dining room;
backdrops of green, teal,
left unfinished,
alone for another day.
Innocence lost in daydreams,
floats like a butterfly,
fluttering, moving up, down,
touching every life at once
then off to the skies.
Clutching his plastic airplane,
my three year old flying ace
snatches handfuls of granola,
runs up the stairs
taking advantage
of Mom's absence;
flowing silk dress,
high heels, red lipstick
black flowered hat,
singing to the little girl
in the mirror.
Trip to the park,
peanut butter and jelly
will see me
to dinner time;
Mary Wells tunes the night
softly in the front room,
all kids are finally asleep.
Looking for a dance
in the emptiness next to me,
Mary sings for us.
Feeling you in every verse of this tune,
crisp serene crackles of your voice
raises hairs on my neck;
we become silhouettes
reflected in a mirror.
You are things I cannot taste,
so close,
somehow, in Cincinnati.
Awaken
Over the shouting
of soft silence,
like feathers
drifting onward,
a whisper
floats in the air.
The sun disappears
into vast oceans,
hot summer winds blow;
stars come out
to blanket night skies.
In the moonlight
we are wrapped
in each other's arms,
weaving, dancing
on pure emotion,
catching a ride
on tails of comets.
Awaken back to reality,
sounds of rain
gently taps at my window
like snare drums
in a jazz band,
it plays a chorus
of rhythm and blues.
My fingers slide
along this coffee cup's rim,
I rejoice in the dreams
of tomorrow.
Timothy lives in Western Maryland with his wife and four of their eight children, who provide most of his inspiration. He has been published at Poetry Repair Shop, Storyteller Web Magazine where he is currently on staff, and in Poetic Reflections.
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