Happy New Years (an acrostic poem)

Holding his breath, Jacob started the countdown.

As the ball fell towards the ground his emotions rose up

People all around him shouted together, ten, nine, eight…

Plenty of time for Jacob to close his eyes and make his wish

Yet this year he couldn’t do it.

 

Nine years ago he began the tradition, being lonely for so long

Even though he had tried to let his heart recover, it was still in critical condition

Wendy’s death had taken part of him to her grave

 

Yet here he was, nine years later in the mass of people in Times Square

Everyone yelling, five, four, three…

And here he was hold Theresa’s hand, but still his heart wouldn’t grow

Reaching one, Theresa pulled Jacob close and kissed him, but all he could hear was

Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind?

Secrets (an acrostic poem)

Simple things were not always possible

Even when Thomas was the perfect one

Christine finished laying the bricks of the new outdoor fireplace

Rather than something small, she had decided to go massive

Everything had a place, including a water feature and cedar lined benches

Thomas would have loved it, but he had broken up with her yesterday

She hoped the cedar would hide the smell when he started to decay

Pace (an acrostic poem)

Putting her daughter to bed, Abby felt like she was about to break.

Already she was dreading the amount of work she had to still do

Considering she needed to be ready to go to her other job in seven short hours

Eventually this sprint would either let her win the race, or have her crash and burn.

Flame (an acrostic poem)

Fingering her necklace, Carrie looked at how Jen kissed John

Lingering feelings of those lips ghosted on Carrie’s

All Carrie wanted to do was go down there and slap John across the face

Make him realize he had crossed the line

Even if Carrie was the one who broke up with Jen

12/13/2016

Taking a long shot

Hoping that I don’t get burned

Love me some bourbon 

Footsteps on the Moon

The soft white snow made crunching noises as Clarence walked across its pristine surface.  Looking back at his own tracks, he wondered if Neil Armstrong’s footprints were still on the moon.  What would it mean to leave such a mark on another planet and human history?  Clarence looked up at the full moon, trying with all his might to see if they were still there, but he knew the gesture was futile.  Still, for a moment, he thought he could glimpse that history.

A sudden wind gust swept across the landscape, snow leaping into the air and dancing to a mad tune that could only be heard in the whipping air.  Clarence shuddered at the chill north wind and closed his eyes to its frolicking snowflake dance partner.  Just as suddenly, the wind lost its melody and the snow sat back down waiting for the next number.  Clarence looked around him, the landscape had changed in that simple moment, erasing its memory of his passing.

Clarence looked back at the moon.  Those footprints might still be there, but that was a dead tidal locked rock island in a large space ocean.  Even though it chilled him to the bone to think about his own mortality, he was much happier to be here where he could watch the dance around himself, even if it meant his mark on this place would eventually be blown away in the symphony of change.

Clarence continued his walk, not worried about the footsteps he was leaving behind, but about the warm glass of mulled apple cider that was yet to come.