Chapters: a sunny afternoon; By the bus stop; twilight; notes from the inside

I thought I'd round out the week by finishing on a poem I wrote a bit more than a year ago. It's really four short poems. The other things I've been posting this week, tend to be things that have just occured to me. I suppose you can tell by the more rustic and perhaps half complete style. It's another play on that feeling in Walt Whitman's writing. The idea of recreating that pondering and calm voice.
Without further adue here is Chapters.

CHAPTERS.

A sunny afternoon.

A girl shaped like a wave, licks an almond flake from her hand. It is the last one and therefore the most unique. The one she will remember. She hesitates to put it over her lips. She lays back in the sun. The sound of the waves in her ear.

By the bus stop.

A boy who feels like the wind waits at the bus stop. He feels like the wind today as he did yesterday, but he did not tell anyone this. This is his own hidden secret. It whispers over the wind. It is not a happy secret. The boy hides underneath a hood. He hides from the wind and at the same time he feels like it. His heart is confused. A small tear floats out of his eye and down onto the road. It stays there and then the wind comes and carries it away.

 

twilight.

It is spring today and the man is buying a pink flower for his sweet heart. It smells very nice. Today is a peaceful day for him. It is a day when the leaves do not blow. It is a day where the sun hides in the grass. It is a day when his world smiles as he walks past it. It is a day when all the world could fit inside of him packed tightly inside his suitcase.

notes from the inside.

See the crumpled and torn manuscript that sways so forlornly as it is carried through the breeze. Did you ever care to follow its trajectory, see the way it reflects the light off its brown surface on its journey. The strange miracles it encounters floating over and above us drifting as only it can, at last free from itself.