Less Than More Than Friends

I lived today in shades of blue and brown-

in your standard denim jacket,

in your coffee with cream,

in the way your face is a beach- sandy eyebrows shorelining your ocean eyes.

—

I lived today in shades of sad and dull-

in the morning news with Barbara,

             (four found dead at home, and the father (the killer) gone missing)

in the refusal of my eyes to focus on the beige of my cubical,

in the rainy way a dreary day soaks up all ambition.

—

I lived today in shades of gray and gray and gray and red and green-

in clouds,

in rain,

in pavement,

in the lines of the train I rode to get back home to you,

through shades of sad and dull, and redgreen and gray,

to get to shades of brown and blue,

to my favorite shades of you.

-Helen Schmidt; May, 2012

I used to see a thousand faces in my wooden floor.

All of them animals, all of them watching quietly.

A juxtaposition of three dark knots gave them eyes, a nose.

A juxtaposition of my eyes, my brain gave them limbs.

And for some reason they all lived in Africa.

Swirling patterns in the grain was the dusty wind,

allowing them minimal motion, they did not travel far.

I used to see a thousand faces in my wooden floor.

But now I think the animals can’t see me anymore.

-Helen Schmidt, 2012

deerstalkerholmes:

I sincerely hope my children don’t end up like me

(Source: assemblers)

In the forest,

the trees are turning gray

the branches start to sway

as if preparing to fly.

—

In the old forest,

the golden sunlight gleams

and weaves mosaic dreams

out of the leafbed canopy.

—

In the winter forest,

the animals curl deep

and through December sleep

for food is hard to come by.

—

Pillar trees, like marble

firm in the trunk

with veins of sap

consume their space in the sky

with twigs before they die.

-Helen Schmidt, 2012