Floating Through Seasons

Oh, how this Island of Saints and Scholars
beguile me, heavy snow this morning
especially for the working class of Sheriff’s Street
twelve years on this road, I like it here, I know the score,
never a Saint on ‘The Street’
many a failed Scholar
myself included,
half ten and winter’s morning is gone
autumn sets in, with a heavy rain melting the snow
without an umbrella, I go in search of my creator,
buying the kiss I head back to my apartment around noon,
in my confusion leaves bloom
back in my room I tie up the dinosaur
praying to St. Christopher to keep me safe
on my trip,
the air has dried and a warmth invades me
all the anxieties of people I let down drift away
floating above I notice bareness, in the room
a skeleton on the floor
I’ve been here before
observing an unlived life
in a perfect clarity
floating through seasons
this time forever.

-L.J. Lenehan-

four seasons

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