Andi Leigh Writes

A funeral for summertime. A joyous day for me. As summer dies, colors rise, Vibrant in chilled sunbeams.

Fair, as simple stars, Heartbreak lurching From paper ribcage. We are taken down The burning movie reel, Two imprints memorized Then lost in an instant. Fumes and flames, burn hot, And paper ribcage glows somber. Simple hearts of foolish flare, Don’t see the flame within Scathe their utmost fragility.

Gut-wrenching butterflies, Cry— at sights unseen From avoiding eye. Dressed up fatalities Masquerade as formalities, And change is on the back burner. Restless fear of the next dark corner. Churning pain returns again, Butterflies now die but leave behind New cocoons, wistfully waiting For emerging life to carry on, Witnessing the frustrating. Spun lies, keeping ties, Wishing for the berating from the wise To minimize, and eventually Hope the flutter of their wings calm, I hope, oh so desperately.

Shallow edge, washed pebbled shore. Dreaming, longingly gazing At lake ripples and simple frogs. Wondering how it would feel To rest on lily pads, Drenched in the sun, While dreaming of the world Beyond a hidden lake.

I feel my water’s climbing heights. Waves engulf my sleepless nights. After moonlight glistens on sky and sea, The sun rises and revives me.