Back Door

I saw you
in black and orange;
in everything but blue
It wasn’t petals, like I dreamt of,
but cold and stark clouds
darker than the night I knew.

A few poppies lingered
after the storm;
after moons went away to hide
on back porches of redemption;
upon the end of weeks
softly shaded gray.

If I only had a harp
to sway the mood,
to grip the pain, to swallow pride
to flourish, green and unencumbered
in the midst of innocence

In the morning when feathers fall,
colors dancing in her rosary
like iridescent stars that lost their way
counting the steps home
whispering the same songs
on Sunday, kneeling,

looking for faces in stained glass panes;
statues looking on, just waiting
for prayers to call them by name



I could hear you play
from here;

chords strumming gold,
lyrics sticking in my chest
like a breathless sigh
with no place to go.

The chorus had me begging
for just one more chance
at love;

syllables dancing two step
with feet without rhythm,
but the night shares meter

with stars
that shine through anything.

I leaped into love, word-struck,
sight unseen
with laughter as a metaphor

for this life-

blooming and falling
like I did that first year,