Halo

Encircled by your light;
ribbons of joy, tied tightly,
frayed by years, unraveled,
faded, but still unbroken.

Nuptials

Tiara of flowers
for my tresses
tiptoeing
a path of innocence
making mud pies
in a wedding dress
from grandma’s old sheet.

Clouded

Paint a prettier picture
than views from the window.
Flowers are splendid,
but the air is stale
with network static.

 

 

 

 

 

 

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The Answer

I watch my prayers rise,
reach lilac sunsets,
whirl between clouds,
catch on the tip of stars
and echo back to me
in whispers of reassurance;

boughs of trees standing
in the stillness of summer
fields of lavender, blooming
without the crush of footsteps
as we watch from the window

silhouettes of angels
spread harmony into stale air,
ripples of peace into rivers
running deeper than any disease.

We can’t forget to live,
let fear take hold,
or let love fade away.

I sigh in the silence
of this evening, remembering
that even in these windswept days

his answer is always yes.

When It Starts To Rain

He fills my sills
with colors;
cacti and wildflowers;
pulls back curtains
igniting my smile.

 

 

 

 

 

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Still Blooming Like a Cherry Tree

Before you, I sat at Starbucks,
daydreaming
over a pocket-size book of Neruda
a romantic with a sugar high
writing our future on napkins.

I spoke love like a horticulturist
writing bouquets from memory,
until you became the protagonist
holding the slipper
in my Cinderella story.

They said it would fade;
that our fingers wouldn’t always
be interwoven,
that I wouldn’t always look away,
blushing
when you gazed into my feelings.

I wish they knew nothing has changed
I wish they knew love is more
than first time flutters;
that true passion won’t wear off
like the monogram on these glasses;
the wine, like us,
only getting better with age.

 

Wanderlust

Let’s awaken to a chorus of birdsong,
roll over and pretend we can still fly,
pause to notice the way trees sway;
their winding limbs unaware
of the turmoil in this wind.

Walk with me awhile,
even if we can’t see the ocean
or revisit the snow capped peaks
where our love first bloomed gold.

Let’s turn the television off at 10 pm,
drown out special new reports,
new statistics; numbers going up,
step under a blanket of Texas stars
and dream of tomorrow,

because we aren’t surrendering
to their “new normal.”

 

 

 

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Resistance to This Change

 

I miss wandering green fields,
stopping to capture the stillness
of a wildflower,
the breath of trees.

I get weary just wondering
when we can fly again
watching cardinals
dance in summer wind,
their song, never stale
through all of this
disease.

Pardon my self-indulgence.
It’s the music and the settling
of fog on the windows;
last July’s sand on our shoes,
a reminder
of where we can’t go
and the price paid
for staying safe,

but he’s planting me colors
in good soil
waking me up just in time
to see the sun.

Late Nights On Her Singer Sewing Machine

 

Grandma made dresses,
100% cotton, practical,
navy blue with pockets
when all I wanted
was something pink, silky
and store-bought.

How Are You Feeling?

We need more than three words
or ten minutes of precious time.
We need a light
through all of this darkness,
a little laughter
when there is so much to cry about,
music to carry us away

and words, so many words
spoken,
to express
how our hearts are feeling,

How are you feeling?

Upon Stepping Outside

I remember the violets
bare feet tiptoed across
on many an April morning;
thoughts of love flowering
tender blossoms
ripened by the sun.

Upon a carpet of emerald
dotted with dandelions;
a thousand wishes waiting
to turn in to poems, recited,
accompanied
by a chorus
of cardinals.

They say nature and love don’t mix
but, how could I fail to mention you
when your petals exude beauty,
your scent, like laughter,
fills the room,

a gift

from his hands
to mine?

Counting Sheep

As the storm approaches,
time becomes sweeter;
scent stimulating senses,
simulating love;
its eloquent bouquet.

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