huckleberry

with a carnival balloon in hand

and paper banjos playing softly beside the river he walked home,

pausing only for a moment

to released the fictional helium hope

of ever finding his own huckleberry friend…

then quietly placed his love in the museum of his soul.

                                                                                           avp

shy

even his pen was too shy 

to say the choler words he felt,

afraid they’d awaken his dormant stones of pain.

so the words remained trapped inside the timid ink

of immearsurable emotions unanswered,

 never to be written.

                                                                avp

leaves

with no thoughts or prayers

he packed up his stuff

and walked through the door of his own secret self,

turning back momentarily to watch

 the leaves begin to fall on his bed.

                                                                                                  avp