Ode to Amy

On a late-summer evening, as the streets begin to cover with autumn foliage my spokes whistle through the gentle breeze.  A bike ride at dusk and Amy in my ears, I experience a brief euphoria. 

Nothing was as it seemed.  It was all a mystery and maybe even a fantasy.  Surreal!  Waking from a midsummer’s dream, perhaps, the years passed so gently.  Nothing was as it seemed. And I am not harmed; not even by the gently lies. They could have hurt so much more.  Any pain I once felt is but a needle prick in a world of syringes and hammers.  

Even the things the I thought were happiness and bliss were merely a smoke screen. How could I have known?  And it doesn’t matter now anyway.  

The breeze blowing across my face reminds me of the gentle lips I kissed not long ago.  It made the news I received today a little less emotional. 

She’s finally engaged.  I’m glad.  I think we all deserve happiness.  And I am happy for her, and the one before her.  Whereas so many can not find the happiness they seek, it may be only because of the company that they keep.  

And then I hear this melody in my ears…”Our time will come...” One of many songs that remind me of another time, I shed no tears-which surprises me because I thought I’d be overjoyed.  Perhaps I’m underwhelmed until I sleep tonight.  

There are things that happen for reasons we will never know.  Accept that!   

If not for the signs that are prevelent only to me…BeautyBeyondBones and songs that only I seem to feel on SiriusXm and the colors I see when I close my eyes and the fragrances of flowers that aren’t real, and the people who whisper my name now that she’s no longer here, and…there’s so much more. 

The universe is talking to me. And I want to pretend that this journal entry is about an vocalist that I’ll never meet; and I want to write because I can not speak; and I want to close my eyes because I can not sleep;  and I write this now because it’s not too deep; and…


I am not the poet.  I am not any more than I have ever been.  And I can not be him or him or Him.  

Reactionary as I am…not! Nor will I be.  

Twilight plays in the background.  Dusk is in the rear view, and my bicycle reaches its home.  I am happy.   Not for me.  But for you.  

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