The Unborn Child

One night I met the ghost of a child,

Whose spectral smile and snow kissed skin glowed in winter moonlight.

Not waiting, or spying. Not plotting or conniving. 

He stood still, beneath black starlight.  

All I could do was return to my bed, his image burned in my mind. 

I tried to avoid forgotten wants, letting my thoughts unwind. 

It can’t be true, but I read a tale, 

Whose ending shakes me still. 

A time. An hour. 

That strikes at 12. 

And spills across the windowsill.

A time when spooky thoughts surface,

But ghosts and goblins are no more. 

All that’s left are tattered dreams,

The ones clawing at your door. 

I itch to grip her wrists, delicate like rose stems.

I crave to pin her down, so she’ll know she’s mine.

There is a lustiness to ambition. An aphrodisiac to power.

It hides behind family friendly gatherings.

It’s masked in the monotony of everyday routine.

But, deep down, every man wants to use her, without a care.

And have her love you for it.

Autumn trees surround the empty house, miles from downtown.

A silky saxophone note fills the silence.

We sway.

I lose all sense of time, of any moment but this one.

The faint taste of champaign, lingering on a kiss.

The flush of warmth, as it pumps through my body.

Until I can’t tell one from another.

Love from want. Desire from intoxication.

I just am. She just is.

As the sun sets, we become the same.

– SB

There is a clock whose silent staccato whispers with each footstep.

There is a house from which you’ve journeyed, hunting a new sunrise.

Each day searching for what made sense the day before.

Each moment craving to return to the warmth of home.

The crackle of firewood. A hot cup of coco. Cozy blankets that cast away the cold.

Murmured conversation and the clinking of dinner plates.

The times you’ve felt home are rare, like a Crimson Rosella, fluttering about in the wild.

I’ve found it in a person before.

I’ve lost it too.

Truth be told, I haven’t learned much from my footsteps on this planet.

But, I have come to know one thing.

It’s not about the future.

It’s about where you are.

Don’t hike mountains, in the hopes of a better sunrise.

Hold fast to those ones around you,

The ones who make you feel at home.