Written by Ken Carman

I grew up
Under emotionally sculpted skies
Passionate
Crystal clear northern breezes
Blowing raggedy cotton ball clouds
Over bright blue lakes
Deep, dense, dark green forests
And a deep, wide river

Unless…
Life’s clouds hung heavy
Or high
A different kind of sculpted sky
All in All
A time when passionate dreams dared to fly
Solo

How close passion and I were back when
I would let passion devour me
Well
Every now and then
But it always spat me back up
Freshly challenged

Oh…
When did this slimy, slippery
Emotionless mist
Start to insist
On dampening this passionate heart?
When did the weeks
The months
Each year
Start to dull even fear
Into textureless
Tasteless
Cream of Wheat days?

When did I let
Like a once beloved pet
Passion be buried on cemetery hill
And how did my dreams get
To curl into the corners of only yesterday?
A process that seemed slower than tortoise
As hope went all
Rigor mortis
Before its time

Occasionally
Through too many moonless nights
Through the steady
Quick
Drip
Drip
Drip
Of each year
I hear
The ghost of passion still
Howling up on cemetery hill
And think…

He must be almost as lonely
As I
________________________________
Copyright 2009
Ken Carman
all rights reserved