For Joslyn (Work In Progress) Poem by Hubert J. Humperdink

She asked the sky to return to its normal state of affairs
And then remembered light pollution
A disconnected line
Her eyes as distant nebulas lost in gas clouds

Transitional seasons are her favorites
But now the seasons have no meaning
And she is lost
The obssession of her cries like a mending of the spirit

She tells me Jesus doesn't have her number
and I think she means a homeless man looking
through the trash

And she is fairy
Her voice like falling pebbles, like stone against stone against earth
She held my hand as we walked to and through a bridge
She told me her wings were too weak for flying
She told me her back couldn't stand the weight

And when I looked into her eyes
I knew she wanted to tell me tales of the sky and of her reign as its Queen