jaybeasley2

if I could have

delivered you from your

biggest worry and

make the day all come forward

to the part where you finally relax

and make an assurance that

we are going exactly nowhere and

you recognize where you want to be

after a few glorious sunbeams

and a hundred or so

breezes that come up the forest hill but

soon you picture yourself under blanket

reliving your flavor of

last night’s cocoon

plenty of the gain of no stress

in a tiny set of wings

that often flutter open

but for now the rock

of not much body momentum

Is what needs to be

and another quiet voice begins singing

the slow slinky tone of

each and every of tomorrow’s yesterdays

beneath a quest for silent naps that

register on every scale

and grow so many levels

in each minute of valued deep

tasty lovely sighing slumber

the words arrived to me

in a broken phrase of

despair which was long ago forgotten

as if placed by

the song I wrote when very young

like a leaf in the wind

or ten blossoms

slowly dying in the moon

whilst the black cat

crossing the path is

there for the myth

it seems to make

whenever seen by the knowledge

that is in the misunderstanding

as so many people do

but we all live in different places

Of comprehensive stories and I

know that you are just

twelve hours away from a dead day

that should have recharged but

we all have somewhere to

be when the studies shake the tree

and I will always be me

like a good arrow

with a gem on it

when

all the fools

and doomsayers that have danced

back and forth along this

rough but determined street

could not stop

my fuzzy yummy positive

race towards you, so driven and

single-minded and all the prophets

and wise men foretelling

could not have prepared me for

your coming

and even if they had tried

warned

trained me

for weeks on end

to understand and be prepared

I would not have believed them

not only because I can’t realize or get it

that you are here

right now

but also

I didn’t know

angels existed

softened the temperature

among the good times and

in your ways do not change anymore

none of our good old times make a

tiny effect in the corridor of

all of the surprises and stupid things said

more of the happy timing that transformed

Under the keeping safe testaments

energies that crank on down when

reaching on the way we went overboard

Temperatures mattered so much

ending the unforgettable day