Mrs. Potter's Lullaby

Based on a song by Adam Duritz

A cloak of stars covers me in my bed,

easing me into delightful dreams

as they glisten and twinkle

and giggle happily all night long.

A strange image arises in my mind

of the beautiful night sky,

encompassing nothingness

as its babies are with me.

The stars comfort me

in my time of distress,

swathing me in a soft blanket,

 reassuring me of a peaceful night ahead.

Jazz Night

His fingers tap without effort
on the black and white piano keys.
His brim hat is tucked down low
on his sweaty forehead.
Concentration
and peacefulness
play across his features.

Reminiscing

I cry as I remember
 the good times
even though they were few.
 I wish our problems
 could have been resolved,
shaped into a better sculpture.
 But we failed. 
Our partnership dissipated. 

Torn Youth

Slept the years away
and took no chances.
Stayed inside myself
and did not allow others admittance to my heart-
it was already a ripped valentine-
A torn youth.

I was a shy hummingbird,

fluttering vulnerably,
wandering hopeful,
struggling to buzz through the day.
An endangered innocent.

A polished perfectionist
is what I was known as,
but I could not see
through the vast curtain of lies,
fed to me like silent forces.

I swam through severe storms,

grasping tangled dreams
and painted ideas,
praying for answers to be revealed
and a chance to get what I wanted.

My childhood ended with my first real relationship,

the finale of the Harry Potter franchise,
my search for colleges,
when I gained a loyal friend:
confidence in myself,
and the courage to take a chance.

I own my life and my future.

My decisions are mine alone
(an intimidating thought,
but also a boiling temptation)
They whisper like healed wounds.

My heart blossoms with joy,

a warm honey seeps through
my spoken words- happiness appears.
Uneven intentions grow
and eventually prosper into brave actions.

Growing up,

growing older,
more of a strong self:
No longer dragged
through barbed wire-
no longer a torn youth-
Instead, an unyielding fortress.

Here It Goes

I bite my lip to keep from offering my input.  The temptation is so strong that I almost cannot hold back.  Sweat glistens on my forehead and I tap my fingers impatiently on my desk.  'That's it.  Just do it.' I tell myself.  I start to raise my hand, but as I open my mouth to speak, I'm cut off by another.  They suggest a brilliant plan and everyone ooh's and aah's.  I sigh.  I pick at my cuticles.  I was too late.  Again.