Suzanne Stroop Poems

Yellow pants, unbuttoned shirt, long hair
And a mast unhidden.
Women staring, eyes wide but old.
Remembering and wanting still.
...

You think you have it good?
We had it better.
You think you're hot stuff?
We weren't hot...
...

I watch the water rush toward tomorrow,
But wait patiently for yesterday's return.
For the circle to find the way to it's beginning
And for a star to be newborn.
...

Apart from everyone else, he stands alone.
Suave, built to last in a world full of fast paced mayhem.
His features unlike the gods of old, are visible.
Brown eyes, bold brows with a crease between them.
...

The wolf howls to the moon in the deepest part of night,
While the dove coos to the sun on some morning bright.
Their words are lost to those who listen...except the trees,
Understanding a language that was hidden.
...

Wasn't it just yesterday, when you picked up that guitar
And played the first chords that began a melody?
Wasn't it just yesterday that began the journey
To some far away tomorrow?
...

I remember you, still wet behind the ears.
Abbreviated ducktail, sideburns, black boots, peg leg pants,
Black shirt and a black guitar held tight against your heart.
A menagerie of words and music already forming in your head,
...

Looking through a prism
Light refracted in waves
And scattered like leaves
I see you.
...

I am Suzanne.
A woman who still sees a young girl somewhere inside.
A young girl afraid to look at now.
She wants yesterday to find it way to her again,
...

Brown eyes watching you.
Lips that speak of who you are,
Where you've been,
And where you're headed for.
...