Charcoal Outline

If shadows could speak,
mine and yours would converse
about the fragile life
​of daffodils,

the softness of constellations
and the way light billows
through strands of our hair;

silhouettes sleeping

within the length
of one another.



Arranging Flowers

He didn’t carve initials
in that oak tree we lay beneath,
but, we tasted syllables.
rolling off the tongue,
from his lips to mine
and back again,
quenching our thirst
with the juice of poetry
dripping down pink curves;
fingers finding metaphor
within tangled limbs-
searching for alliteration
in a handful of wildflowers;
breaths meeting
in the middle
of love’s sentence


Morning Glory


Oh, light, posing promise,

                        like posies,

        picked apart, strewn;


        like morning glory,



                below bedroom windows.


Oh, jealous moon

     tempting twilight,

        with its scattered stars




  like the thoughts

         you left me with.



Love Letter #38 Poetic Device

I taped your words
to a quiet place in my mind
so that all I have to do
is close my eyes

to read you.

I eat, sleep and dream
high on metaphor,
romanced by alliteration;

imagery like flowers
brings me to my knees
in a garden
of syllables.

Sprinkle my senses
with sweet assonance;

two lumps of inspiration in my morning coffee.

~Day 26 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


Love Letter #36: Cinderella on a Tightrope


The warmth of you melts my fear;

inhibition, a puddle beneath my feet

as stray syllables fall from my lips


and the stars that dwell in your eyes

      align with mine

              in a certain symmetry


that clouds share with rain.


I have a sneaking feeling

that an adoration will reign

as butterflies encircle


an irregular heart- –beat


and love falls –

           in a downpour.



~Day 21 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)





Love Letter # 33: In Chasse’

She spins pirouette
in anticipation
of just one look
at his next stanza.

Alliteration blooms
against the backdrop
of ambiguous metaphor
in chasse’ of love
between lines 6 and 7;

hopeless poet,
blushing pink in sigh,

long before the finale’.

Day 8 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National POetry Month.)


In Waiting…


      Just below the surface

                       hope is rising

          as dreams whirl

  into funnels, translucent-

   engaging as dove’s coo

in the early morning hours.   


                        Like lily pads,

                      in waiting for pink softness

                        upon weathered pages.

Take these heart strings

    like threads of harp,

       beckoning you



~Day 1 of NaMoPo a poem a day for National Poetry Month!