Sunset
on the Emerald Isle
I sat beneath a mahogany coffee table,
Wading through seas of optimistic verse
Scratched on lcd parchment with digital ink.
Longing for a smoke break (I don’t smoke),
I propelled my prose temporarily out of my
Thoughts and let my wearily eager fingers
Flutter through my Google homepage,
Where I gawked at headlines on the virtual
Newsstands, hoping for an eye-catcher
Distraction to cleanse my mental palate,
But I found a blue, pixelated jaw-dropper
To leave a Duracell aftertaste in my mouth.
Gone, you are, like a broken universe-cog;
Tooth-cracked and discarded from the whole,
While the wheels turn resolutely onward.
Steady clock ticks reverberated throughout
The empty room as I had absorbed every
Bitter drop of unwelcome news, forcing
My disconcerted mind to wander miles away,
To the quiet cascades of leafy imagination
Guidebooks stacked upon my dusty shelves.
I remembered your earthen tomes of tempered
Scribbling that painted masterful portraits
Of the lush emerald home I’d never known.
I longed to reach out and find your words,
But your books slept lazily beyond my grasp,
Oblivious to your permanent departure,
And my only form of commiseration came
There, at the mahogany coffee table,
When I dove back into my ocean of work,
To bravely shoulder your abandoned flag;
To observe the world through your eyes
And shine your influence beyond your days.
