S T E P H E N   F E R R E


Evergreen (SF, 2003)

Never loses his leaves
Despite his great age;
Life yet in the old goat.

Is the great healer
And the destroyer;
A double-edged sword.

LifeIs a burning flame, 
The greatest gift,
And the most difficult of trials.

Cannot exist without life
As witness and forebear;
The flame extinguished.

Is ever green: born in passion,
Burns beyond loss, 
And matures gracefully.



Give me red,
The color of fire and passion.
Give me blue,
It’s cold and cruel, or pleasant like a summer sky.
Give me the green
Of envy, or the verdant forest.
Give me an orange,
Fruity and refreshing on a hot day.

Gray is the color of suits, of conservatism.
Gray takes no chances, no sides.
Gray lacks the lie or truth:
It is neither black nor white.
Gray is the rainy, mucky day, whatever time of year.
Gray is vague and unclear, like dusk, without dawn’s glowing radiance.
Gray is non-committal:
It is neither night nor day.

There are shades of gray, which are no more satisfying – 
No one ever colors love gray, or happiness;
There’s no such thing as a gray glow.
You can have your grey; I’ll keep my rainbow.
I’ll take a black cloud, with its light show, or the darkest night.
Whether right or wrong, at least it’s stimulating –
I’ll never turn down a good fight.
You can keep your gray; I’ve had enough of it, thanks.



Wandering beneath the night sky’s furry carpet of stars, I ponder my “What ifs.” A tender touch long ago is remembered as if it happened today.  What came next?  Nothing but the awkward paralysis of the impossible.  The consequences should have been inevitable, but were out of place.  We shared a secret, unspoken, but understood, and never acted upon.  Lovers in a past life, or destined for the next, two souls entwined for millennia meeting too soon, or too late – the result is the same: fate skips a beat.

We regret time lost, yet are certain that we will meet again, and maybe miss again, but some day, tomorrow, ten years, or ten centuries from now that pregnant touch will bear its offspring.



Brother and sister from different parents – twins perhaps;
I knew the moment we first met.
We understood more about each other than lovers – instantly:
The secrets of siblings, knowing glances, intimate and platonic.

I felt protective like an older brother when you flew the nest.
He could never see you as I did, or know you as I do.
I will be there if he leaves, constant, a rock.
We will take each new day as it comes, together.

When I moved on, nothing changed.
It was as though we were still together.
We discussed our days in dreams, and laughed at each others mistakes.
Our friends kept us in contact, little knowing our nocturnal ritual.

I will forever remember those summer days –
The certainty of our friendship and our shared asides.
Though the years have passed and our conversations have become less frequent,
I will always cherish my twin sister.


The Gift of Gab

On that cold rainy day amidst the ruined abbey,
You spoke the prayer of the ancient ones; I’ll never forget.
You always know the right thing to say.

When I’m at my weakest, you are strong,
Calming me with your words softly spoken:
A wise head on those young shoulders.