Camille

It was not yet spring
When they found her,
The tree she chose
Still stood barren in
Winter’s last breath.

The coroner confirmed
She had done it herself,
Leapt from the branches
Some time Friday night.
Now, Monday morning,
The groundskeeper saw
Her shadow cast upon
The dew-sodden lawn.

She held no name, nor
Wallet or purse. Instead,
Her only clue lie on the
Scrap of paper within
Her tightly bound hand:
“Raisons d’être,” her
Reasons for living.  

The irony was not lost
On the students, though
When asked it seemed
That no one could
Remember her name.

MSBQ

Darker Times

The moments that are coldest
Are those when you can see
The cracks in time, like glass
Splintered in a windshield.

Even though it will not snow,
The winter still bites, teeth
Sinking deep into old wounds:
It is the dark time now.

Each midnight passes, frozen,
Waiting for that icy sunrise to
Peek over the horizon and warm
Us in its temporary glow.

But however long it may take,
The cold never stays forever.

MSBQ

Defrosted

A whispering cannot shake death,
Yet winter love so sweet would live.
By spring, we soar like shadows fall
And rob our bed of all these dreams.

For when we lie, the stars will spin,
Leave streaks across the midnight sky,
Until, at once, the earth was still.
When I awake, you shall forget.

So come, spring sun, and dry my skin;
I dare not falter in my quest
To see your smiling face again.
For life’s regret is labour lost.

MSBQ