Pause

Waves pause;
take note of the wind.
I connect the dots
like seashells that led
to your exit.

I still feel you
in subtle coincidences;
hear my name
each time I weep
for you.

When you left,
so did the color of my sky
leaving only outlines
of a once blinding sun
and a bursting,
blush of a moon.

Your heart skips beats
in -my- chest, now,
and these waves,
hushed and tame
wait, like me,
for your return.

Morning Light

I awaken

to the scent of coffee,
(even though you don’t drink it,)
fresh squeezed citrus
and an extra blanket
wrapped ‘round me

where your arms were;

yellow sun spilling light
into windows
of the room we share

like the love you show
gentle as the breeze

that blows this curtain
keeping the ache
of the world

from tainting our peace.

Screen Play

No, the title isn’t a typo.

The past is a blur
since eyes pay the price
for lazy fingers
gliding across a keyboard.

We forgot how to use a pen
to scribble feelings
in notebooks
carried away in boxes
of broken pictures;

memories colored
with a spilled inkwell;

fingers stained with the ribbon
of the Underwood typewriter
he sold when I left.

When You Make it Rain

You wait with an umbrella;
catch the sadness that falls,
take me under your wing,

let me paint pink,
speak blues
to my heart’s content
like a poet
running on alliteration;
running out of words
to fill the empty spaces.

So much to say
but, no one will listen.

When you make it thunder;
light the night with syllables
we tend to forget,
shake up the trees,

We bow
to the calm
after the storm.

When it’s all said and done,
here I am,
yes, I am a runaway,
but I am only running

to you.

~

Night Owl

A poet never sleeps;
ideas dancing, swirling
in figure eights, delicate,
pausing in pirouette
like smoke rings at 2:00 a.m.
looking for a place to land.

She saw him
in the midst of syllables
sauntering in
like an uninvited guest
falling into a sentence
like a bride over the threshold
breathless in anticipation,

whispering vows
like an unwritten love letter.

~