I have fallen in love on the phone,
but who said that pictures are worth thousands of words?
Or that they tell stories?
I'll tell you a story
about who said that...
a lonely lady
on a hill
in a house
made of glass
because she needed the sun
to be shining on her
always.
The only gifts from the sun are laziness
and beauty.
Flowers sit idle in vases
waiting to wilt,
while moss enjoys no expiration date
in the shady corners
of our minds.
Once you left me a note on the refrigerator that said,
"your smile is my art,"
and I wrote back,
"your words are my muse."
We had no time to take pictures then,
when we were happy.
Running swiftly through the damp forests
of new beginnings.
When every cloud or rock or leaf
seemed to be in the shape of something
that made us smile.
When your palm
touching my palm
turned ten fingers
into one braid,
that made me smile.
But words begin to saw at the trees with time,
and as each one fell louder on the forest floor
we became helpless to the harsh rays of the sun,
which crack surfaces
and expose truths.
So we bought a camera
to freeze time.
We bought a nice big fancy camera
to prove that there was life left in us.
With each flash
we captured lies
like fireflies in a jar,
trapping them behind metal and glass
and hanging them on our walls
so that our guests could have something pretty to look at.
But at night,
when the visitors would leave,
and the only light left
came buzzing from the television screen,
our minds began to wander
as our eyes rolled back
and like clockwork
the moss continued to cultivate…
For lest one forget,
no matter what it sows
every seed begins to grow
under blankets of soil
in the dark.
