If Words Were Wildflowers

Let dreams be wildflowers
under our feet
The gold strands
that extend
from me to you,

periwinkles tossed between our feet
and fallen petals upon pages.

I want to be his Wednesday;
the gentle pause in his week,
the 2:00 a.m. thoughts
that interrupt his sleep.

This cardinal, tapping on the window
playing violins to my heart.
Spring makes me think of Emily
and daffodils;

second chances on a brand new April day.

~