9
My Calendar’s Prison
Crystal thoughts though clearly projected,
Reach objects of density mishapen.
Forms of letter by letter; word by word,
Enter in and out, around and under,
some to soothe, some to stir and there are,
some unlike any other.
Methinks I’ve caught many I shouldn’t
Tipping the delicate scales of reason.
Opening the hands of my calendar’s prison,
I step around those thoughts not meant for me.
I listen, I observe, I enjoy all I need,
For today is all I have to fulfill.
Yesterday was only part of my earth’s season,
Tomorrow is as far as my mind’s improved vision.
Carol Sanford Hall
The Girl
Her
body, how
graceful
it flows,
free
as a breeze.
K Her
eyes, how
deep
the shades of
brown ;t
always knowing
and
understanding,
me,
as if our
thoughts
were in
unison.
Her
smile, as
radiant
as sunlight,
shines upon
me,
capturing my
gaze
foraslong
as she
wishes.
Her
grasp on my
heart
is
immeasurable;
insatiable
is
my desire
for Her.
I
can only
pray,
she loves me
as much.
J. Chris Hoyt
photo by Mike Cookingham