She Is The Many Things in Life
She is the light, the eve, the noon day . . .
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She is the electricity as much as she is the laughter
She gives, then takes back on a darker night.
She says little, but her eyes are volumes
She keeps guarded—never to hear them again.
She is a hymn sang softly on a summer Sunday morn
She walks carefully on each note as if she’s running.
She was the careful smile, the labored mile
She knows without asking—and sighs at the dawn.
She gave her eternities back to the tramps afoot
She rose violently across a mountain high.
She only sits, waits, and grieves for lover lone
She is the hateful shades of torrid betrayal.
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She is the strength, the quietness of a misty eve
She is the clouds, the rose petals holding fast.
She is the jagged rock that death snatches her
She only smiles, putting *him to shameful sights.
She is the infant’s cry, the hobo’s empty stomach
She is the truth, a mild lie, a wandering kiss.
She is the fearful respected by stranger’s words
She is the silent tomb, the breath, the darkness.
Writer's summary – the one asterisk besides
him signifies death.
Kenneth
She is the laughter, the cry, the sky over head . . .
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© 2019 Kenneth Avery
