A labor of love

         frame pictures in shoe box were 6 years dusty
         a lifetime has leaped from carefree smiles to today,
         that suddenly the dam burst, frothing of words
         he never knew: sadness, angst, love uprooted so quickly

he wrote feverishly - pages upon pages,
the birthing easy, like a quick sprint to paper mill,
muscles relaxed,  breathing easy, then fast 
as release came,  furious like raging bull

         charging the streets, torrential flood of youth's passion
         he pumped his muscles until it was firm and unyielding
         of his journey, words became sharper and shades deeper,   
         only now, the birthing became more and more labored 

it felt like a sharp knife in his chest, a stake deepening,   
claws knotting his veins with each tug and pull, 
driving him crazy in the lonely hours of night,  
so after months of writing,  he decided to 
stop -

          let the words 
          sway in quiet contemplation, like the sea 
          waiting for the ship to plumb its depths,     
          bowstring curled still in lover's fingers,       
          unknowing when

they will meet again     

Posted for the OpenLinkNight of Real Toads (Monday) and D'verse Poets Pub (Tuesday).

My son and I wrote poetry at about the same time last year, but he has stopped writing, while I have continued.       

picture credit:   here