Do Not Call My Name
The shower chain clinks and clangs against the fence,
dancing with the wind.
The birds bathe in the pool,
fluttering their wings in the sparkling water
The sun glistens in the bright blue sky,
with a single dark cloud its only blemish.
I do not want to move.
I want to float upon the water,
and feel the hot sun, as its rays saturate my soul.
Do not call my name.
Do not come looking for me.
Do not tell me what needs to be done.
I want to be still.
I want to sit in my jasmine perfumed garden,
where the dragon flies and butterflies perform a ballet,
to music which only they can hear.
I want to feel the warm showers, from that single dark cloud,
as it floats over my bougainvillea covered secret garden,
sheltered from the world and her peering eyes;
to be willingly intoxicated by the blazing palette
of the pink and purple orchids.
Do not call my name.
Do not come looking for me.
Do not tell me what needs to be done.
There is no other sound.
The blades of the fan continue spinning,
humming a sweet and steady tune
which drowns out the passing plane and barking dog.
The perfect book boldly beacons, daring me to open her,
climbing in to be carried away to a different place and time.
Freshly picked berries, tickle my lips,
as I bite down on their plump, juicy flesh.
No other wants exist.
Do not call my name.
Do not come looking for me.
Do not tell me what needs to be done.
~ Cristina Jill Mosqueda~
This entry was posted on May 31, 2010 at 7:29 pm and is filed under Poet's Corner, SlideShow. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
