Burn the Letters.

The boy had spent his life
covering things with stamps
so as to send them off
to better places.
And while it was true
that he spent some of his time
collecting other’s kisses in the rain,
all his life he had dreamed
of falling in love and finding
a small brown tabby cat.

Trees held no interest for him
except when they were
dead, their leaves crumpled
and brown. It was this rejection
of nature that spurred him on.
Long dark nights of lighting
candles and putting them out
with tear drenched fingertips.

And now he had the desire
and the drive, not to mention,
an old green tandem bike
with a bell that played a tune
like the waters of the world
and purple violets. At last he
could escape into the world to
find his one. To find a
dreamer of his very own.



  1. Rachel · August 28, 2008

    just lovely.

  2. howard · August 28, 2008

    I don’t know how you do it. I can almost feel this one.

  3. deanjbaker · August 28, 2008

    this is really well done

  4. zaphodfreek · August 29, 2008

    Cheers Rach

    To tell you the truth, Howard, I’m not really sure.

    Thanks Dean.

  5. raeofsunshine · August 30, 2008

    there you go with your hope again…
    the half of my thoughts I fail to put into words.

    Here’s my theory: the world needs balance so the forces of nature put you and I on wordpress at approximately the same time so we could keep the balance. I write less often, allowing you the occasional dark poems…

    it’s a pretty good theory if I do say so myself.

  6. zaphodfreek · August 30, 2008

    It is.
    Quite reliable too.

    Thanks Rae.
    Most of these things stem from a phrase or two,
    and I just expand. So, maybe that’d help?
    This one comes from watching Amelie and speaking to a friend on msn between the hours of 3 and 5:30 in the morning.

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