Poem: Between the Sheets

Today was a fairly uneventful day, in what is shaping up to be a fairly uneventful week.  I have full days of training most of this week, so no actual work to be done, just 8 hours filled with the most boring stuff you’ve ever heard.  I spent a good portion of today’s training doodling in the learning manual and thinking about my relationships. 

When I was in college I made the best friends I’d ever had and when I graduated I swore to myself that I wouldn’t let those friendships fade away. I e-mailed, texted, called and visited my friends as often as possible.  But try as I might, each one of my friendships has slowly eroded to nothing more than the yearly Christmas card filled with well wishes.

I know that making new friends is a part of growing older; I just wish I didn’t feel like all of my old friends were moving on and forgetting about me.  One of the worst examples of this happened a few weeks ago when I found out through Facebook that my best friend from college, the best man at my wedding, was engaged.  While the news itself was wonderful, I couldn’t help but feel forgotten having to find out through Facebook, 4 weeks after the actual engagement took place.

In other news, I’ve started writing again, or at least started trying to write again.  In college I use to write a lot of poetry and actually wrote some half decent stuff if I do say so myself.  I spent a couple hours tonight seeing what I could come up with and have concluded that writing poetry is not like riding a bike.  Now don’t get me wrong, when I wrote in college a decent poem still took a couple days/weeks to write, but I at least had ideas flowing on a fairly consistent basis.  Tonight I got about two lines on paper that I didn’t completely hate, but they will most likely get scrapped tomorrow once I’ve slept on it.  I guess that’s what happens when you work a soul sucking job like I do, takes a little while to revive your creativity.

Anyway, here is some vintage me J

Between the Sheets

Oh stormy weather,

How listlessly I lie in bed

And watch you shake the stenciled trees,

Rake the muddled leaves from out the gutter,

Stir the ivy-covered walls

That seem to mutter something

Of old memories.

Come gentle specter

Running through my room again.

Let us make our way through the graying crowds

To a place where we might wrestle

And kicking up the feathery down,

Lay hidden till the morning hours

Beneath embroidered clouds.

Come with me now

Out into the tumultuous stormy weather.

Let us be like children ‘neath the rippling waves,

The fresh linen sheets that come cool and smooth

Atop the roofs of the matchbox houses

And once again be lost

In the dampening folds of the rain.