empty apartment
she jumps
when the washer is done |
quiet morning
my hands resting
in the dishwater |
dishes take longer
to pile up
with one diner |
a single dish
clinking
in the sink |
|
|
|
top
quarter champion |
|
TOP half Chamption
|
bottom
quarter champion
|
|
|
empty apartment
all my calls
go to voicemail |
closing the book
after the last chapter
my only friends, the characters |
waiting for mom,
one string is plucked
on the broken bass |
alone
the runt of the litter
playing in a separate puddle |
|
TOP
half champion
|
|
CHAMPION
|
BOTTOM
half champion |
the flowing river
I cast my line, wondering
what's for diner |
day spent boating
the fish
his only companion |
autumn night
the moon
pushes through |
staring at the moon
and myself
together on the water |
|
|
|
top
quarter champion |
|
BOTTOM
half champion
|
bottom
quarter champion
|
|
|
a night walk
talking to the moon
bouncing back ideas |
night breeze
nothing to do
I follow it |
cold winter night—
huddled outside without the
fire of friendship |
at the base
of the old oak
a single mushroom |
© 2016, Randy Brooks • Millikin University. All rights returned to authors upon publication.
next door neighbor
comes to talk
while I grill |
we move in unison
flowing like water
around and over the rocks |
teenagers
riding skateboards
in front of the grocery |
the trampoline
our legs get tired
sprawled out watching the sky |
|
|
|
top
quarter champion |
|
TOP half Chamption
|
bottom
quarter champion
|
|
|
late car ride
with a friend
peaceful silence |
something so beautiful
about the handwritten note
sitting on my desk |
the calm of the storm
bringing out
the children at play |
sitting on the porch
watching myself
chase the fireflies |
|
TOP
half champion
|
|
CHAMPION
|
BOTTOM
half champion |
the gigantic tree
we used to climb
a stump |
deep in the woods
the fort
up in the trees |
weeds sprouting
purples and blues
let them grow |
a spider
watches from the corner
of my bubble bath |
|
|
|
top
quarter champion |
|
BOTTOM
half champion
|
bottom
quarter champion
|
|
|
she naps with her old teddy bear
his daughter
a child again |
her tiny hand
wrapped around my pinky
twin smiles |
Christmas dinner
more than enough
to go around this year |
stepping from the car
a deep breath
I'm home |
© 2016, Randy Brooks • Millikin University. All rights returned to authors upon publication.