---

color,wonder,crazy,mezmerized,dreams,us,mind,love,music,gone.....try these for a bit and I did not hang up.

Nothing else in the world can shimmer across the water like the blue colors of the sky.
There is nothing left after the sun won't shine, no more dances after the ripples die.
One more chance watch the sunset settle over the calm blue sea.
No more attempts to paint the sky how you want it to be.
A nameless face stands on the distance shore.
One single tear drop, nothing more.
A silent whisper to the dawn.
Everything is gone.

But still the solitary figure stands and closes her eyes, trying to bring back the wonder of it all.
The night sky has left her in the dark, and still she stand and shivers in the winds of fall.
Every moment is exaggerated in time, every minute is just one more second chance.
One more time to dream and try and remember all the steps to this dance.
A flicker there, a spark over there, and the players take their place.
A quick movement here, and they all begin to twirl into space.
Still the solitary figures stands not moving at all.
She begins to smile as she begins to recall.
How the colors danced in the light.
And thinks she just might.

Alone she stands, one figure lost in time, fighting like crazy to bring them all to the surface again.
The more she dreams, the closer it will come, desperately determined to wait for the end.
Each dancer comes closer, each twirling of light getting brighter than the sun.
As each light explodes inside her brain, no regrets for what she's done.
Time stands still and there she waits, for what she cannot see.
Her love for life sustains her yet, for what she must set free.
The dance has yet to reach an end, for this she has to wait.
The wind grows cold, and the hour grows late.
But still she stand there patiently.
Facing the whispering sea.

Nothing breaks her tranquility, so dedicated to her task, a dark figure mesmerized on the water.
No sounds distract her from her goal, the silence darkness a cloak that surrounds her.
Taking comfort in knowing she will be the one to bring it home.
A warmth from knowing she is not in this alone.
The connection to all those from the past.
A sense of peace at long last.

Memories of faces, images of life, surround her in all of her dreams.
Everything is real, but nothing is ever all that it seems.
So she waits for what is to come.
Standing in the absence of sun.

Swirling, twirling into her mind, drawing us even closer yet.
The lights get brighter as nearer the surface they get.
Constantly changing and shimmering in sight.
As the colors shift from dark to light.
And still she stands as quiet as can be.
The lone figure by the silent sea.

At this moment, there is no future, no sense of mind.
Not only is there nothing more than light, but no sense of time.
Patiently she stands as the night engulfs her.
A sad smile as she stands by the water pure.
Nothing ever will be more of a lure.
As she stands silent, never more sure.
Lights fluttering in waves and peaks.
Still flittering for the goals they seek.

Ever persistent, refusing to give in, she thinks of the love for it all.
Not noticing the cool winds, or the break in the silent with a singular call.
As the night moves along, and the dawn threatens life.
And the gentle winds cut through the clouds like a knife.
Behind closed eyes, the lights still dance.
Looking to escape, for their every chance.
The time is shifts, and begins anew.
As the lights sparkle and pick a hue.
Ready to escape their bond.
To dance across the pond.

Impatiently waiting for the music to start.
So she can release that which is wishing to part.
One more minute, one second in time left.
As she opens her eyes, instantly bereft.
The lights they leave her, to life they spring.
As they transverse space and begin to sing.
Once more the water shimmers the color of sky.
The lights dance as they escape and sigh.

Iris has let them go, no longer under lock and key.
She has them for night, by morning sets them free.
Once more she shifts into the shadows there.
To wait once more for the nighttime to share.
She drifts away, to soon return once more.
When night returns, she will be on the shore.
But now she sleeps as the day is long.
The sun shines, the night is gone.

---

There is no easy way to ask this question of you.
You should just be a name on a screen of blue.
But all my thoughts revolve around you again.
I fight every urge to write to you as more than a friend.
Please make this heartache go, you are so far away.
You make me smile with every word you say.
In dreams, you are the knight shining in armor so bright.
You slay all the dragons, and make everything right.
You are the beacon that shines through the night.
And the one that brings tears, whenever we fight.
You remind me to smile, when I am feeling sad.
You frustrate me daily, bordering on driving me mad.
I try to hide behind the smiling faces, but the feelings stay.
Time should heal all wounds, but this won't go away.
So please, remember, even clowns can cry inside.
No matter what impression is shown on the outside.
Georgie Porgie kissed the girls, don't ask me why ?
But lizards and snakes also can make you cry.
But please ignore me, I am rambling on and on.
I wish these feelings would just be gone.
Your heart is captured by another, this is for sure.
But even knowing this, it is still hard to endure.
This age thing, you would think would be a block.
But the more I think of you, the more it is not.
I wonder if the sunshine would just make a glow.
Could I or would I really miss the blistering snow?
This poem was never meant to leave my thoughts.
But sometimes we do things we should probably not.

---

There is this tendency to think that if you could only find the magic way, then you could become a poet. "Tell me how to become a poet. Tell me what to do" . . . What makes you a poet is a gift for language, an ability to see into the heart of things, and an ability to deal with important unconscious material. When all these things come together, you're a poet. But there isn't one little gimmick that makes you a poet. There isn't any formula for it. -- Erica Jong

To write a poem you must have a streak of arrogance - not in real life I hope. In real life try to be nice. It will save you a hell of a lot of trouble and leave you more free time to write. -- Richard Hugo