Summer Eyes

Whew, I was up quite late last night. As a result, I slept a touch late this morning. Hey, I was awake at...umm...well, it's not noon yet, is it? Bird slept, too. I was getting up when he stumbled into my room and rather imperiously informed me that we were going to snuggle, so I couldn't get up. Ah-hah. I crawld back under the covers and we had a cuddle, and then played for a while - he wrestled my hand, and it fought back by occasionally tickling him silly. We finally had to stop when my stomach informed us both that it was rather more empty than it liked. So up we finally got, and now he's pretending to be chased around the house by various dinosaurs. T-Rex, Archeopteryx, Euplocephalus, Celophysis, Stygymoloch, Stegosaurus, Ornitholestes, Bracchiosaurus, and a Pentaceratops (spell check just fell off its seat and is now staring at the ceiling - I don't think it was prepared for all those dino names!). Yes, he knows what all of those are. So far, he's built a shield to protect himself, frightened them away with fierce noises, distracted them with Frisbees, flown on the back of a Pteronodon, and shrunk them so they were tiny and couldn't harm him. Wow. Busy morning.

Me? I made tea, weighed myself (I lost a whole pound this week, whoopee), and sat down to rest from all that exertion. When I opened this post to write, I couldn't think of anything to write, so I decided to share an old poem I wrote back in '97, when the world was young and I was younger. I was cheesed off at one of the few guys who'd actually ever flirted with me, because the only time he ever seemed interested was when he needed money or no other girls were around. How annoying. So, for your enjoyment, avoidance, or torture, I give you...

Summer Eyes

Would you have noticed my eyes
in Winter's darkness
if the garnet-dark lips of another
had drawn your gaze?
No,
for feasting at the King's table
you had no need of common fare.
Now, though, in the heat of Summer's fire
you have been left wanting.
Somehow through the scorched copper heat,
the waves of bronze sunlight
reflecting from earth and sky,
you have noticed them.
The romantic in me (foolish child),
stunted by reality's radiation
sighs at your sweet words of affection.
Limpid pools are trite,
but sweeter than mountain water
to a moisture starved heart.
Indeed.
Am I so easy to misread?
I sought not your words,
your company.
I am as happy alone.
As well be alone
as accompanied by the knowledge
that when Summer's heat
is soothed away by Autumn's breeze,
I will be a forgotten apple in the orchard,
wizened through Winter
as a discard.
I have pride, if not beauty.
I will await my own Winter prince who loves not my convenience
but rather what lies beyond
the "limpid pools"
and is the heart and soul of me, reflecting my Summer heat
in shades of cool water greens and blues.