L.R. Harvey Poetry

A Windowsill Memento "Memento Mori"  I watched it start a seed surrounded: Surrounded by soil, the brittle blue rocks That came in the bag, and (when I remembered to look) A bath of lukewarm water.                                             It grew up grounded In houseplant love, the love of windowsill sunlight And eager eyes just willing it to grow; A love that only seeds and children truly know. From there it shot up seemingly overnight And stood up proudly, puffing out its blooming chest Like youth who scoff at death Or laugh at the thought of mortality. Its sole reality Was youth and life and the now , With no sense of trepidation for days to come Or fearful thoughts of where or how It’d find its needed sustenance. And then I watched it blossom And finally fade, Changing its youthful countenance As time began to perform its skin-changing trick That always seems to take us by surprise.   But through its impending death

A Teacher's Reflection on the Ones who Got Away  There was a window, but it was small And tightly closed at times, (Frustrating when through it I could faintly catch a glimpse of all That lay before her.)                                If only she'd unlatched the sill And let me speak a word or two, Something to inspire hope or maybe to Give her a vision of what could be.                             ...                                                                                       The class sits still, Silently writing a journal or taking in a text, Oblivious to the fact That my reminiscings of her (and my failure to act In a way compelling her to put the front to rest And grasp her true potential), Inspires my every day with them, Driving me to leave them with something somehow influential.