Sweet breezes

In the youthful spring of sweet breezes, when nothing seems to matter much and life is like a brightly painted carousel; the impetuous heart, wearing scarlet, is on a bouncy ride, destination unknown; the mind playing in time to a fast and flighty violin in a temporary field of buttercups, here today but moving on tomorrow, days meld one into the other like cake mixture; kisses are carefree and impulsive hearts broken like china and never fixed and nobody hears the clock chime or wears the time, broken bones heal quickly and scars ignored, looks are so important, the shallowness of silicone and fashion rule and vacant heads of state and weed seem cool, there are no apologies, intimacy is just a game and anyone can play, emotions like charades, the order of the day.
In the cooler afternoon of autumn, some side-walk café awakening whilst sipping a more serious concoction, feeling like a single red balloon, a little deflated, yet still floating out in the blue, all alone and watching falling leaves that come to rest like gilt signatures, the empty feeling of something important missing, oh where did time flee to? Is this all there is? Don’t leave me here alone. Why do I feel so uncomfortably needy? Remembering that day, the voice of love, of reason, a stranger who joined me at my lonely table and wouldn’t go away, I remember asking for guidance.
In the stoic winter season, when layers peeled one by one, leaving nothing but the naked core, the essence; when the game is almost over and nobody wants to play again and time has come for reflection and spirit comes to fore, I am humbled by your love, by your persistence, by your acceptance and forgiveness, your open door, the hand that lifted the veil, healed the rage, removed the painful thorn, the eyes that saw it all and smiled when I smiled, wept when I wept, the heart that offered renewal in a truer season. I cannot forget when you, so tired, so faithful, met me in a new dawn at the foot of the mountain to lead me from a funeral, the afternoon that you left it all just to hold and heal my broken spirit, the evening that you touched my face bedside the fiery lake and told me that you loved and forgave me. I left you so many times but you never once left me. For that I am so deeply grateful.
Now I stop and smile and watch the youth playing in the spring of sweet breezes….

© Jane Claire Solomon
May 23, 2011
Copyright reserved

Sweet breezes

JaneClaire

Westdene, Johannesburg, South Africa

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