No Swimming

In my study, the reflection of green fir trees, in the still black back of my laptop, is akin to the looking glass of a lake. I love to sit forward occasionally and peer down into the abyss. It feels as if I could dive in at any moment...

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Hanging Around

We're just swinging here like empty hanging baskets,
Waiting for the soil, for the seeds
For the sun, and
Desperate for the wind to die down
Through fear that our chains may well snap.

property of silver4chris protected by copyright 2020

He Paid With Petals

The homeless man dried his hair

Under the hand blower in the public lavatory and

Then he combed it with pride.

We were sharing a mirror together.

He told me he was off to meet his daughter

For the first time in fifteen years.

His face was tired but not broken,

His smile: ill equipped

But able to be fixed.

The homeless man needed help to tighten his tie.

He told me his daughter's name was Laura.

His eyes were alive with life and love when he spoke her name,

And he said forgiveness was the most humane

Of all the emotions.

I gave him ten pounds in return for the insight.

The sun began to slap against the window and

Made our reflections gleam.

We exchanged laughs and I wished him well, and

As he left, he said

He would use the money to buy his daughter

All the flowers that he owed her.

property of silver4chris protected by copyright 2020