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Poem
In the frame that hangs upon that wall resides
an image taken from the previous century.
The jubilant smile on that kid's face reflects
a time similar to a world of fantasy.
Superheroes were real,
good prospered over evil,
and the clock of life 
would never cease to tick and tock.
But like the weather,
things change and then that cold,
spine chilling breeze passes through your body.
You soon realize that the only thing that you were right
to think as a child was to be afraid of the dark.
Often the darkness will swallow you up, and just as often,
the meaning of light that you clung to will diminish from existence.
I've known that feeling for a while now.

Rooted with the spirit to thrive like blossoming roses.
Childhood is like a cool summer breeze.
The way the wind gently massages your pores
until the scorching heat becomes a fable.
It serves to remind you that fire doesn't always 
burn if you know that opportunity
will soon extinguish its flames.
The future holds many luxuries, is what most are told,
and others learn that sharp jewels cut deep.
Like a diamond in the rough,
we grow up trying to discover our self-value,
while others try to dim the light that flourishes from our ability to shine.
And during that journey,
many of us are left to crumble
as if we were uncompressed lumps of coal.
The realities of life step from the shadows and reveals itself.
A misconstrued image of what's real and what's fictional.
This is around the time that the winter's blizzards
begin their reign of terror.
The pneumatic wind chills make the temperatures even colder
until the blood flowing through your veins become opaque.

Like roses in the winter,
eventually our beauty becomes a mirage,
the sweet sensation of warmth becomes a facade,
and we become fragile, wither and die.
The great-grandmother who loved kodak moments was a rare flower,
but frigid temperatures preceded demise until death reigned.
Every time I visited her as a child I'd greet her
with a subtle, shy grin and she'd greet me with a full smile.
As time passed, while being in her presence, my lips would soon mirror hers.
It's been a long time since I've seen that glamorous smile.
Because now she's gone in the wind
and every time I feel a breeze,
it haunts my thoughts.

Life, like the wind, comes and goes.
Sometimes a warm breeze, sometimes a cold breeze.
Sometimes howling an unearthly tone 
and sometimes whispering smooth jazz.
But it'll always blow even as one day
we won't be able to feel it tickle our skin.
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