Perspective

This Old Lilac

~ Byungafallgren ~ 4 Comments 
This Old Lilac

You've grown like the old lady.
She began you from a sapling,
one spring long ago.
Now, you think you are done,
despite the many branches.
the gnarled arms, dried, some broken
by the wicked wind.
A few signs of new life at the root;
eager to renew; with bout you doubt.

Now and then you remember the days
you were a robust beauty, pink blossoms
with a sea of aromas.

One thing you don't like even then--
the big orange butterfly and her caterpillars
that devour the leaves until they 
withered and died.
the summer days hooligans.
 
Despite all that, you always sprang green in spring
and bloom, scent the air in the whole neighborhood
like a soul for the world.

You long to do so in the upcoming season.
And then at the end of spring,
you weep, defenseless against the invaders.
But worry not. your mama is watching over you.
She is armed with pepper spray.

The butterfly has a sharp sense of
its power, which surely burns the lips
of the caterpillars. Isn't that great?
You and I still have many springs to come,
as Mother Nature smiles upon us.

©Byung A. Fallgren




Illusion

~ Byungafallgren ~ Leave a comment 
Illusion

Wile typing at dawn, I see, in my peripheral
vision, something stirs in the dark doorway
and drag itself toward my desk. Charlie?
I peer under my desk; seeing nothing, I sigh;
the cat's been gone for years now.

On the back porch, I gaze at the sky;
a head of a dragone looms over the cloud
and stares at me before vanishing.
It looks so real; my heart is still jumping.

I saw, in the store, my neighbor. when
I'm about to greet her, she shoots a leery
eyes and turn. What did I do? I want to
poke her head, but I just stared. all that 
morning, the mad eyes stuck in my mind,
like a millions of maggots.

Later that afternoon, she sat on the porch
alone, drinking coffee. I sauntered over.
 She says, "Come, sit."
Grabbing a chair, I studdy her smile and
noticed a swallon sty in her eye smearing her smile.
I laugh; the illusional day!
We chat for a while, as the ladies in gray.

© Byung A. Fallgren

The Empty House

~ Byungafallgren ~ 4 Comments 
The Empty House

There used to be a sign "Welcome"
outside of the front door, now gone;
the weathered garage door, with a 
broken-glass hole, through which 
a lonely ghost to stare at the familiar sign,
propped outside the door to the neighbor;
the ghost wonders, if no one comes, will
they also move away? 

A counselor would say, "Reach out."
A wise one said, "Treat others as you would
like them do for you." If you want them to visite 
you, do it yourself first. It should be mutual,
to be more going and enjoyable.  

--Byung A. Fallgren

Winter Backyard

~ Byungafallgren ~ 2 Comments 
Winter Backyard

The Bull snake, in the hole beneath 
the junipers's feet, thinks of the lady who
gestured to him on a spring day,
to go down the slope before her;
he moved aside, startled, to let her go 
down the slope; she insisted he go first;
oh, such a civility of her;
would it live even in the winter?

The rabbites empty burrow under
the porch, after the neighbor's dog
chased them away to the bog;

the Russian olive tree that spies the neighbor,
with a bough hanging over the fence;

now, they all watch the snowflakes in silence;
how harmonious they look in a glance. 

© Byung A. Fallgren


At the Vein Specialist’s Office

~ Byungafallgren ~ 4 Comments 
At the Vein Specialist's Office

"Do you do those things?" the nurse asked.
"Do what?" I said.
"Nevermind," she said. "Just respect us."

Case of  rude patients problem. I smiled. "Respecting
the respectable people is my name."
"Put on only undie, wear the gown, and lie on the table." her
voice was windy. Case of rude nurse. I sighed for the missing Please. 
But quickly dismissed it; I was more concerned of the dreadful
pain I was about to face.

I recalled the receptionist's caution: "Wear a thick diaper. the pain
will shock you." So I did as instructed. 
The pain. The thick diaper. Goosebumps shooting out on
my varicose-veined leg. I took a deep breath. After removing
the problemetic vein, I will be free of pain. 

A young doctor in his white gown came in. And stood close
to my table and stared at me in the gown and the senior diaper,
the poor leg waiting for surgery. 
"Oh, sooo cute," he said. "I want to hug and writhe on the bed.
She's just like my mom." His eyes lingered some more.
I removed the facial mask, and told him, "I know I am incredible 
shrunken old lady. Please start and get it over with the surgery."

"Oh, sure," he said. "I was thinking how the vein should be 
removed; cut at the low end, and then the upper thigh one.
Before that, this and that should be done."
I shuddered. 

What seemed hours later, the surgery was over. 
I was genuinly thankful for his ardent effort. 
"Thanks, doc. The pain is less thatn I feared."

"Good to hear it," he said. And quickly left the room.
Quicker than I wanted him to be. 

©Byung A. Fallgren