Memoirs	

Disclaimer: You know the drill. Alas, Fraser doesn't belong to me. I just
like to play with him now and then (who wouldn't?), so I'll be careful.
Promise! 

  

I don't know why I'm writing so much dueSouth poetry lately. I think I've
been inspired by a certain blonde Chicago cop, who's also a poet inside. J
Well, here's the latest. Fraser's looking back on the seasons of his
life...and finds that all he needs is one Stanley Raymond Kowalski (who
can blame him?). Comments welcome: littlepoplin@hotmail.com 

Enjoy! 

  

  

Memoirs  

By: Ellie Leonard 

The tide turns under feet 

sand slips back to ocean 

rain pounds, thunder rolls and the salt stings 

scaly things slip past	

in murky depths of minds 

and I get the feeling I've been here before 

  

Blazes the sun purple UV rays 

parching heat and dying of thirst 

seeking shelter oasis refuge 

reddening skin hardening  

waves rise from the road 

and I tread a desert purgatory	

  

Frost bruises cracking lips				  

dusting winter apple cheeks 

icicle breathing and shadow seeking 

chipping ice from blood 

flakes swirling flurrying in patterns 

and I remember dead seasons wasted in youth  

  

Tears once shredded heart and reason 

broken spirit turning reviving 

seen it all done it all yet still a child 

glimmers of hope beat there again 

touching and smiles come from the one 

and I live spring again in his eyes.