Reid@YWP

Searing, frying, sautéing,
wiping sweat off my forehead,
crying because of onions
the things I do for a boy.
I hope he likes it.
The doorbell rings.
The door opens, he stands with a bouquet in his hands.

look up

the sky is falling

pieces descending from high above

the canvas that once held breathtaking scenes

the sky is falling

never thought the day would come when I would see clouds so up close

I remember when I fell in love with eagles and oak trees, 
with green grass, warm summers, and fireworks. 

I fell in love with what now is brushwood for a fire 
that red white and blue decided to ignite. 

A wild dream wakes you, 

tears you out of 

the spiral you are swimming in, 

sending you, reeling, into a new reality. 

Although I’d likely consider myself shy and coy, 

Occasionally withdrawn from the crowd, 

There are many facets of an observer.

For one,

The ultimate observer can detect feigned emotion,

I stand alone as the clouds turn gray. 

I watch as the rain starts to fall. 

I hear a roar of thunder in the distance. 

I see a bolt of lightning a few miles away.