Paper heaven

Was it just yesterday?
A 48 hour Sunday…
Nothing to do
but gaze out to the yonder.
Just you, just me,
a few books, mugs of tea.

A layered parody,
shameless display of luxury,
pulses rage as pages pace.
Paper cuts drown in ice
while minds are fictitiously drenched
reams of imaginations magnificent!

A good day it was,
that 48 hour Sunday.
Raining sheets
melt on the window pane.
Cushy seats, mugs of tea
and pages and pages of heaven.

The pause.

can't find my sunshine,
drowned in sweeping rain!
what joy to talk of,
when simplicity is a cloy?
smoothly nursing
old, open wounds.
a smile one morning,
ragged by evening.
happy thoughts
complicate a lot.
deeply, deathly, dark
in your absence,
my muse and witness
lives a strange silence.
a fallen stance enlivens
every beat as it begins.

It could be...

A smile,
a pretty dimpled smile
My memories
are held up high.
Gently prancing,
sensations unanswered.
Riding high,
a rainbowed sky.
Many horizons
through blinded eyes.
Tomorrows unfold
As we hold our breath.
Gripped so tight,
yet gently we lie
in this bower of dreams,
hoping it could be.