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C. J. Christenson

of

Grand Rapids, MI, US

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Untitled

by

C. J. Christenson

In my world the blinds are shut,
Life runs by out of control,

And sometimes splats into me,

I can't always get out the way,
As I did when I was younger,

So I get up and wipe the
Stuff off again,

Trying to learn from the,
Experience.


First Day

by

C. J. Christenson

It's the small, warm things,
In my world I save space for,
I keep them in my pockets,
Cozy with the fuzz and lint,

And I hold him softly,
In my hand at the streets edge,
Against the wind and rain,
Waiting to cross with the light,

Are these the hands of a builder,
Perhaps a teacher,
A farmer,
Or a soldier,

Parents linger with uneasiness,
The first day at school can be scary,

Though I'm sure I'll adjust.


Encounter

by

C. J. Christenson

We pass,
Almost through each other,
Often without thought of it,

Stumbling,
I sense your fragrance,

And like a single,
Autumn leaf,
Floating delicatly on the almost breeze,
To a gentel rest,

You have touched my heart,
And I love you for it.


Untitled

by

C. J. Christenson

I wake to the scent of your hair,
As it touches my cheek,
And I remember last night,
When it was full in my face,
Caressing me as we writhed,
In passion so hot,
We burst into flames,
Only to cool,
In the evening summer breeze,
And become the memory,
I’ll dream again.


Untitled

by

C. J. Christenson

Life wakes up in the morning - early,
Pulls me outa its’ closet,
With a good snap-to-shakin’,
Slides into me one side at a time,
And walks around all day long,
Workin’ up a sweat,
Meetin’ people - goin’ places,
And when its’ day is done,
Life drops me to the floor,
Kicks me to the hamper,
With all its’ other stuff,
From the day before.