Of Auburn Skies

By: Ben Frondorf

This was meant to reflect.

All upon the season we see.
The rich rebirth of Spring
The warm riches of Summer
The kindle of Autumn
The chills of Winter.

But all my time,

All my thoughts, when lying here,
Under this stunning oak of a home,
I must realize that time’s river ebbs and flows.
Much like my own reflections.

I stare upward,
Into the Auburn Skies
Clouds dancing along the winds,
Moving to places, an unknowable future,
Where I say the wrong things
Do the wrong things.

Where I realize, as the burning desires

Rain ashes of revelation upon me.
Making me question:
Do I Deserve it?
Did I push too far?
When time comes and goes
When I am old and decrepit
Will I be the villain?

The villain of unknowable stories?

Unknowable at least until the frozen river of time
Thaws under my feet
Thanks to the beauty of the Auburn Skies. !
Did I push too far?
By: Ben Frondorf

Did I push too far?

Have I hurt you at all?
Mentally, hitting you like the scars on your legs
Bruises of the arm
Did I push too far?

You make me laugh, you made me happy, I only hope I did the same
Your words say yes but your actions say no
I want to say I know you, but you remain closed
We spend time one on one, driving for hours
Talking, discussing, figuring out what we are
Did I push too far?

I love you. I held you. In my arms, on my back

Like a spider-monkey ready to attack
Your attacks are light jabs, giving me a hard time,
Only for me to do the same, little teases everyday,
Did I push too far?

You release primal screams.

Not to let out anger but just as a greeting,
The random sounds put others off,
But never me. They made me laugh. I knew you were around.
I wanted you around more. Seeing your contemplation during a show,
Your reactions making me chuckle.
Did I push too far?

There is more to you, I know there is.

But you are Fort Knox whenever I knock
You stay closed, joy on display, but I know there is more in that fray.
I see the anger boiling over, frustration, anxiety,
Did I cause this? Was I playing a part?
Did I push too far?

You cut yourself off. I know you are sad, mad, enraged.
The cute blonde girl I knew and love has more than one emotion
Let it out. I want to see it.
You call yourself a burden,
But do you think you burden me or yourself?
Did I push too far?

You say I will be afraid. You say I will look at you differently,
I just see you. I see my love, I see my life,
I see the craftswoman, builder of knives, costumes and more
But we, we built what we wanted.
Rough but gentle hands carving out a place in my heart
We had a firm foundation, a steady plan
Did I push too far?

There must be something there? Something fearful?

Am I wrong to assume? Am I wrong to take your words,
Your issues that you refuse to talk about,
You call yourself a burden, but you never burden anyone.
I want to know, I want to help
We have the best of intentions, so why wont you tell us?
Tell me?
Did I push too far?

Was it a lover, a brother, a mother, or more?

Was it us, was it me?
Did I make your blue eyes ever bluer?
Did I make the scars inside your mind cut deeper?
Do I make your pale complexion burn red with anger?
You say you appreciate the concern.
You return with gifts.
But I only want you to be happy.
I only want you.

Did I push you too far?

!
Down Grandma’s Street
By: Ben Frondorf

I sit outside my schoolhouse,

My own little castle,
Waiting for Grandma.
She is supposed to pick me up today.

Why is she late?

Her house is up the street from school
Tucked away in a little street no one goes down.
Cast in shadow of the trees, her own little witch cottage

Mom wants us to spend time together.

I’m not sure why?
She’s wrinkly as a witch,
She’s older than the wilting tree in the backyard,
And she is a cruel as troll who lives at the trainyard.

She’s still my grandma I guess

Doesn’t mean I like her that much.

Bullies Mom. Makes fun of Dad.

But we still have to see her.
Still have to see this cruel monster that we call family.
Why? Why must we subject ourselves to her?

The banshee cry of fire engine sirens blare.

They move faster than a wolf.
I barely see them go.
They go down Grandma’s street. !
Home of Oak
By: Ben Frondorf

I lay here once again.

Under my home of oak.
It is safe, warm, and secured.
Birds nestled in a place way up high,
Unable to be bothered by the likes of me.

I lay alone.
Under the wilting branches.
Under the falling leaves.
Allowing me to see the Auburn Skies.

I’m sure the others are out and about.

Enjoying the auburn skies of their own way
Laughing and playing
The gentle carpenter, building a wonderful hut.
Somewhere deep in another’s heart.
The burning desirable witch,
Descending down to claim another’s burning desires.

And here I lay.

In my home, far, far away.
My home sheds away.
Day by day.
With every pass of the wilting sun.
Winter has come once more.

My heart will ache, I’m sure.

Growing pains, nothing more.
Another year, another reflection.
The river of time is already freezing over.
And now, my time is here.

To leave my wilting home of oak.

To venture down this street of wonder.
Past the old witch’s cottage, once known as grandma.
To places unknown.
So, I may reflect one more time,
Under these Auburn Skies
In my home of oak.