Him, A Dove, His Love
He stands in slow motion rain,
carving each raindrop with his vision.
A dove here, his love there.
More carvings, that of colorful cotton candy,
which then explodes into confetti.
No more rain . . .
No more pain . . .
Just him, a dove, his love,
and a parade of pure white confetti.
Four seconds later, confetti stops . . . Silence.
He, his love, and the dove relax on a beach.
She tells her life story.
He tells his future plans.
They touch the love dove with their vision of happiness.
This causes the smooth-flying creature to transform into a house,
with a white picket fence and a lake in the back yard.
. . . I hear my rocking chair creak calmly as I rock in it . . .
I open my aging eyes from my ten-second catnap.
Just to see that the rain, the dove, my love, the carving of cotton candy
that explodes into confetti, with no more rain and pain,
were all just manipulating movements behind my eyelids.
. . . I lift my weak elderly head to behold a painted picture on my
wall of my house with a white picket fence and a lake in the back yard,
along with the happiness of her story, and my future, relaxing on my bench.
A picture's truly worth more than a thousand words,
when you allow your eyes to disrupt the paint on the canvas.