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Friday Comes
by Alison McKenzieA slight tilt of the head
Turns the world;
And Friday comes to call.
She’s carefully posed
All of her questions.
The answers race home
In record time;
Not at all what she anticipated;
The unmistakable
“Not this time”
Filets the layers
Until only blood and pain
Arrive for the curtain call.
She wishes love
Would blow in from the east.
Forgetting to be careful
What she wishes for –
Backhanded destiny
Rallies the force
Behind a jagged reality,
Forcing her inward.
And then she knows -
Destiny’s vessel
Waits for no one.
Having run to catch
The next flight to tomorrow;
She immediately notices
He isn’t on board;
She'll have to make this one
Without him.
Zero gravity
Causes her tears to just
Float.
07/22/2011 Author's Note: You know, life is short...
Posted on 07/22/2011
Copyright © 2024 Alison McKenzie
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Ken Harnisch on 07/22/11 at 05:06 PM I've spent Fridays described as you just did perfectly, Alison. And you're right: "destiny's vessel waits for no one." Applause! |
| Posted by Mo Couts on 07/23/11 at 12:07 AM The 4th stanza caused me to breathe sharply inward and stop in my tracks...nicely done, Ali. |
| Posted by Shonda Creemer on 07/23/11 at 06:39 PM I could sit and read this every Friday, while listening to Friday, I'm in Love by The Cure. Each gives and takes just like love. |
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