To lose you
would be a sea without waves
moan of Winter wind
outside as I lay cold in bed.
To lose you
would be the wilt of wildflowers
a bow of small heads around the globe.
My eyes squeezed shut
effort of not remembering.
To lose you
would be loss for those
yet to hear your hearty chuckle,
low and warm
its own kind of song.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Leaves play tag in the breeze
as cars chase green lights.
I am the only stillness
in the city this hour.
Living without permission
no need to ask, “Am I allowed?”
The leaves don’t ask to dance
down the sidewalk.
I grant myself this moment
this sunlight soak before
winter darkness.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Blurred branches of feeling
the intersection of “Not good enough,”
and “You fell for that again?”
awkward limbs that cross
and cross again in confusion. While inches
of growth reach, stretch toward light.
The turbulent angles discretely covered
by feathered orange deliciousness.
A fancy distraction,
just like my sunglasses and hat
a layer of colors,
the perfect cover up to keep
my crack of failure private.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Light does not fall on us equally.
There are hours of gentle illumination, while some remain in shadow.
Random flashes which leave you for no reason at the front of the line.
Or the end, randomly burned, scorched,
with head shaking disbelief. Tranquil dusk light on leaves.
Other days blinded into paralysis, unable to see a way forward.
I remain in a thundercloud waiting room, counting shadows like minutes.
Weatherizing my soul before the next hurricane.
Steadfast, determined in my stance, for a return of the glow
In stillness it will find me.
Sun’s warm hand on my back again.
This too shall pass.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Will you?
Fall, drift, yield
hand in hand,
warm kiss of palms,
veins of life intertwined,
before we,
plunge through crispness
to the other side
of golden.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
As I traverse
what do my footprints say?
Those who walk beside
a step behind and to the left will
see them. Mud messages dried
to become solid.
When my legs no longer walk
my tacks will speak out
a decodable message.
I hope you decipher
“Don’t give up.
Keep looking for the footprints
I am with you.”
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
In dedication to Mother Teresa (1910 – 1997) “Not all of us can do great things. But we can do small things with great love.”
The tree colors sing in unison
settle my rattled soul
unlike any music
ever heard.
This orchestra of leaves
soothes the tempo
that pounds from a
day of instruments
that refused to play
the same song.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
Could this be the final day
of an autumn that I thought would last?
A mellowing of red between us
once crackling emotions now dust bits
collected in a whirling dervish
carried away in the wind.
Now I am an empty street waiting
for the street light to click on.
Predictable and ever awed
by the chance
to begin again.
© Alicia Grimshaw Reposting from 2016
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 