Young Man Watching

I watch you watching the sun rise

With your face turned upward, expectant, excited.

The City reveals itself slowly

Gradually becoming visible after a long night’s sleep

Glittering and shiny

Red gold

Your face too shines in the reflection.

When you see me watching

You smile sheepishly

As if I have caught you doing something wrong

This staring in awe at a new day

You sit on the window sill

So golden, so still


Like some forgotten icon.

 

 

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Lovers With Green Hair

When the Edmonton Fringe was on I passed a young couple, both of whom had dyed their hair a matching green color, leaving a nearby store on a windy afternoon and wrote this poem.

Lovers with Green Hair

I see them coming out of a neighbourhood store on 115 street

Two young lovers with green hair.

The wind is gusting as he enfolds her in his arms,

Like the giant elm trees, which line our street,

Enfold my mind, when I turn to go home.

Moving as one, heads close together, speaking

Yet the wind takes their words away.

They are like some silent movie about two lovers leaving a store

As they huddle against the airborne grit

And pass in front of the lottery sign in the shop window

Their green hair tossed by the wind

Like new blades of grass.