Poetry

March 15, 2016 Poetry , POETRY / FICTION

By

Mirissa D. Price

 

 

Imagine if

 

 

I wonder
do clouds look down
seeing us as we see them:

 

Our movements meaningless
colliding
racing to the edge of time
to tell us
we must fade?

 

Do they see us as images –
her a mirror of the moon
him a shadow of Saturn’s rings –
lifting us to their realm
as we tie them down to ours,
their shapes imaginary soufflés?

 

Are we the counted sheep
as they ponder colored remnants of the day
fading into slumber
leaving us to witness the darkness
at the end of each impish game they play?

 

I wonder
do the clouds look down

seeing us as we seem them –

 

 

Are we just their playthings,

and that’s why

they bring us shade?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

May 21

 

 

Simple paradise has no double meaning.
It just

 

is

 

the lazy Sunday morning,
awakening with a stretch –

 

heaven on earth;

 

wrapped in a warm embrace
woven into the sheets –

 

you are kissed

 

by the heat of the summer sun
with heavy

 

thoughts abandoned,

 

your head held in the familiar

 

fragrance
of a feathery caress.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mirissa D. Price

The doctor said she would live in a nursing home, confined to a wheelchair, crippled by pain; that was thirteen years ago. Instead, Mirissa D. Price is a 2019 DMD candidate at Harvard School of Dental Medicine, spreading pain-free smiles, writing through her nights, and, once again, walking through her days. Follow Mirissa at http://mirissaprice.wordpress.com to stay up-to-date with Mirissa’s publications in The Huffington Post, Yellow Chair Review, and Scarlet Leaf Review.

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