Rose Colored Glasses

The easy Spring breeze
smells of fresh flowers,
and wild grass.

I sit, overlooking the winding stream.
The water gliding over the rocks
rounded with time and erosion.

And as I eye my own reflection,
I cannot help but think of this place.
Home.
Here in an open meadow,
beside the small stream.

Through my rose colored glasses
it is the most beautiful painting
of them all.
A painting
that I hope to one day
create.

Meadow Stream

by T. C. Chiu

The Ticking Clock

Uneasily,
my feet guide me
                      towards the front of the room.

Swallowing hard,
my fears
             anxieties
the grief.

My eyes scan the crowd before me
and despite all that I feel
-I smile

My heart
heavy in my chest
while tears hide behind my eyes

"Andrew-"
Your name slips from between my lips

And somehow
Time passed on.

The Calm Sea

His tender eyes
meet mine
and
just like that
              I am lost
on a calm sea.



A pallet of the shades of blue
surrounding me
as I am met
                    by the golden sun
                     kissing my fair skin.

His brown hair
tossed lightly
            with the rolling waves
and soft breeze.

His skin soft
rubbed smooth by the salty air.

In his arms
          I melt
back into the child
Who I once was.

The Pouring Rain

Rain pours 

                     down.

Over

          Me.

The thunder roars

as lightning illuminates the sky.  

Water dripping down my cold face.

                           I cannot help but shiver

As I think of the road home

and how far I have left

                                     To go.

Mother told me once

to never fear the dark

and yet,

       as the sky fades back to its dark pitch

the ghosts crawl out from their hiding places

-How I wish to be alone.  

My heart,

It pains me.

The grief.

The absurdity of it all.

Rain pours

down.

                       Over

              Me.

The leaves fall with a gentle ease
              -a certain grace
Leaving their old post
behind

As they venture out
into the great unknown
              towards their
certain death.

Thoughts to Sleep On

Quite often I wonder
who I am
and who I am to become.

The thought of my future
is a terrifying one.

It is too easy to sit here
and ponder our existence.

But to commit and grow...
that is something new entirely.

I like the emptiness of my days
I enjoy the quiet when I rest my head
on my pillow
before
my eyes
slowly
slide
shut.

If only to fly

Upon this cloud
I rest my head
The wind rushing
through my hair
behind my ears
caressing my body
with a coarse tenderness

It howls
longingly
Or so I assume

-maybe it is
only my heart-
Beating loud
as thunder
roaring
in the near distance

One, two, three...

The echo rolls across the lake 
close by
and in through the cracked window

Quite often I would wish upon a star
but when my innocence was shatter I grew up
I lost that blind innocent faith
That there was someone
larger than life
who could save
my shattered soul.

The heavens all around me
And I realize
this is no heaven,
but a dream
And no matter how hard I pray
you will never
come home
No matter how hard I cry out
in the middle of the aching night
You will not run to me
like you once did.

You are gone.

-
Upon this cloud
I wait for the world
to pass me by
in hopes
that someday
I will jump
and die 
only to fly