2

Press In

It all starts at sunrise,
this meandering of thoughts
taking syllables for a stroll
through fields of audacious wildflowers;
wind-blown tumbleweeds
and restless dandelions
tossing caution into the day, like clouds
anticipating any sign of a storm.

You cannot reproduce miracles
like the alliteration in a sunrise
or the charm of an oak that’s had its day,

but, you can speak to sentiment
through the lips of a bride;
fourth finger trembling “I do,”
and every letter after falling into place
by the time constellations arrive

because everyone knows
poetry is a foreign language
to all but wanderers

and dreamers who press into the night.

~

2

Here Come the Butterflies

All you left were falling stars and questions;
the flame in my heart, still burning bright
like a light in the window; your empty seat
on the porch swing, my half-hearted smile
in the morning, those weeping willows dancing
with my pain. The skies open, asking for a sign
and then here come the butterflies floating yellow
fluttering all the reasons why you couldn’t stay.

~

0

Behind the Veil

The sky was gold that day
and the birds, those singing cardinals
seemed to stand out
like scattered stars in a black, black sky.

I’ve carried weeping wonders into the world
within the strings of humming harps, smiled
wearing the scars of a warrior,
“the patience of a saint,”
my Grandma always said
behind her veil on Sundays.

I wondered why she cried
when the choir sang,

and now here I am,
arms outstretched
reaching for more
of him;

more light to fill the void;
to heal my wounds

and his heart.

~

0

More Than Four Walls and a Floor

Aren’t we lucky to have laughter,
singing in the morning

and more than floors to hold us up;

our whispers intermingling
under the covers,
warm vanilla candles at the alter,

and your cologne kissing me goodbye?

Why is it still so difficult
every time we say goodnight;
our eyes telling the story;
fingers intertwined
in a prayer for each new day?

Let’s never take a moment for granted
or miss one I love you
while we still have four walls

and hearts to hang our hats upon.

~

~

0

Pulling Weeds

Joy trickles softly down cheeks
of those who seek passion;
let it seep into skin
through dreams and visions;
through tingling seasons of trust,

dancing, singing
in a language
only he can comprehend;

hands pollinating these Spring flowers

without misgivings
on a sleepless, but bountiful,
unpaved, uphill
journey of hearts.

~

0

The Best Medicine

I once dreamt of palaces with balconies
and floors that sparkled like my earrings,
but I never smiled until I met him, and now
laughter fills every room of this quaint place.

~

0

I Have You In My Head

I bite my lip before I speak;
stumble, stammer over words
twist my hair around and ‘round
my finger, dreaming:

Here I am in that white dress
petals falling behind my train
and at the end of the path,

there is you.

Our eyes meet
an instant attraction.
I see my future looking back at me
when you tap me on the shoulder saying

Ma’am, are you ok?

~