Danielle Ward

These wheels are fast.
Beneath my feet the pavement slides away,
A table cloht jerked from under glass.
Wobbling, on unbalanced legs.
...

Wherever you are,
Do you wonder?
I do.
In a twilight bedroom, when the soft summer wind
...

I am a breathe,
I am a life.
I am toil,
And I am strife.
...

Standing above
The crowds below.
I am smiling.
I am feeling.
...

In a breath of wind I stand,
Frog-slimy ground, and shard rocks beneath.
It is not easy to look, much less to walk
Onwards, downwards.
...

These are the things of my childhood,
These shining trinkets and baubles,
Tinsel sparkling through girl-woman eyes.
The child that has held these is still here,
...

The river is clean, rippled, liquid glass,
I see a reflection that is not my own.
A mirror, a ghost of you. Me.
The world has not changed -
...

It is the longest path,
An open road.
I stand at the brink,
Toes tipping the edge, and I sigh.
...

Cover up these flaws.
Hide the marks under white silk,
Pretend they aren't there.
Paint a smile on the face you no longer want,
...

There will be a time, I know,
When you will become the ghost you are meant to be.
You will smile one last time, steady your dark eyes in mine,
You will flick your hair and lie.
...

You are a rock in a storm-ravaged sea,
An island of dependency when all other friends have fallen
Like coins into a chasm.
...

She sees her path and knows where it will end.
Across a timeless sea,
She follows the ripples of a ghost traveller's life,
Under a sky of blanket stars.
...

She is a small part of this world,
A collection of skin and bone and muscle.
She is a pair of fierce brown eyes and a soft, silky mop
Of blonde hair,
...

Give my words just half a chance,
An open eye (or two) .
Now just you slim across my soul,
Another point of view.
...

When we were friends,
You and me,
We swapped secrets like letters
Give and take,
...

Heartbeat.
It takes a second of inclination,
A smile,
A reassurance louder than words.
...

In the darkness I hold.
I breathe. And I wait.
In. And out.
A hum. A sound. Lips and mouth and tongue.
...

The river has not flowed in minutes,
The bed is dry, harsh, white as a desert,
Clean cut lines cracking the land
Where ink once ran.
...

The slick globs of paint glisten in the fading light.
Rainbow teardrops on the thin board.
Disturbed by my brush, the artist's dewdropp clings
...

You are like a star,
The more I look the brighter you shine.
Where there is darkness I only have to raise my head,
And you are there,
...