Dreams-- imperfect.

Rain drops bouncing off the pavement

blackened bread tops

deceivingly good e-mails

day dreams without cause 

sweaters that don't quite fit

friends with other intentions

perfect love not shown

nail polish smudged in minutes, curls fallen

outfits planned, not worn

futures worked for

outcomes hoped for

finding the balance between 

getting it done and

giving them a chance

remind me

that dreams are not perfect

In the Rain

I ran up to her in the crowded cafeteria, I jumped and hugged her.
 My best friend, it was hard to tell who she was under all the stage makeup.
It was a wonderful show. It was an excellent show.
It made my cry inside, though outside I was aglow.
After offering congratulations to all in the cast, I left.
I snuck down the dark hallway and through the front door.
Into the rain I walked, illuminated by the street lamps from behind.
I walked and it rained and I watched as the silhouette behind me became a beautiful person.
The shadow reached out for mine. Their hands connected and turned me around.
 I kept walking as the lamp people danced in the rain.
As I passed another lamp post, I saw them leaning against it. Kissing in the rain. And I remembered.
What the heck am I doing? All this stuff? It isn't life.
To love is to live.
 And I'm missing out.

L'après midi-Mon temp favori

The afternoon, when the sun is low
my problems fade,
my smile shows.
I'm not sure what it is
about the late afternoon
that makes me feel like I have room
to grow
and to stretch
and to climb and to soar...
The sun through the leaves
just makes me want more!
More, I can take it--
Give me all you've got!
For, come ev'n and morning:
"I think I'll not."
When the skies are grey
the late hour turns cozy;
a bitter morning rain;
into a world of imagination,
 sheet to hide behind,
and a lake to dance in.
When the clock moves to three.
I'll take your hand,
you hold mine too
when the clock hands
show its after two.