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In His Presence

Dry your tears on the softness of his grace
and leave your worries at his feet.
Let the darkness of worldly things
remain outside these stain glass windows
and reside in the peace of his presence.

~
I am writing a poem a day from November 24th until December 25, 2017 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. .. This is day 18.

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Love Letter #56: to Fireflies

It was one year to the day he left
in the coolness of March.
I waited
for a star to fall like it had that night.
I needed another sign from God
that he was somewhere warm;
somewhere sweeter

than the wildflowers we walked through
in that same field where I sat,
waiting,

then, came something softer
than a constellation
but, as close as a whisper,
with wings.

My head in my hands,
it all came back;
the song, the lyric
of him;

the smile on the lips of his last words,
echoing like lost syllables in damp air,

but then, this flickering thing,
it multiplied, divided-
like stars,
exploding in the Heavens
and there I was
under a skyful of light

wondering how could I
have ever doubted
you.

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Love Letter #52: Turn the Page

As that door swung open
at 2:00 am,
(always my prophetic hour,)
I knew these bare feet
would find wildflowers;

fingers wrapped in the warmth
of his,
this heart –
skipping beats

within the sound of syllables

a collective sigh
of moon awaiting sun.

A first book is birthed in pain;
love spilled upon pages one
through forty-eight,
hidden in quivering pen
by the flicker of a candle,

but, turn the page,
and there is a light!;
a pirouette of words
swirling,

a kaleidoscope;
a skyful of enamored stars
and the joyful prance of souls

joining the letters
of love’s sentence

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Love Letter #51: Solace

When morning makes light
of transgressions,
tulips bow and bend
at the mention of his name,
I find solace in feelings;
a whisper of sacrifice
stretched across wood;
remembrance of a love
that crosses boundaries-
tenderly lifts burdens
into heart-shaped wings
of atonement.

~

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Love Letter #50: Sunday Shoes

Breath of wind, come
caress my face with petals
of sweetest flower
take hold of my heart
and dance me into
the essence of you;
your love cascading
the length of my hair,
every strand
finding fingers
to gently wrap ‘round
like daisies sway
on a lazy afternoon,
after skirts
and Sunday shoes
have passed.

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Love Letter #49: Date Night

He was surprised
when I suggested we sit in the park

and just talk.
We could have had candles
and a vase full of roses,
napkins in our laps,
and the hum
of other conversations,

but I wanted him all to myself-

sun beginning to fade
with just the ripples in the pond,
scent of fresh cut grass
and the reflection of periwinkles
in his soft, brown eyes;

oh, that gaze he gives me
the one that makes me look away;
hold back the tears.

When I think of us
I think of daffodils;
a love so delicate, unfading
and gold as morning,
whispered new every awakening,
like dew upon petals;
like pages of poetry,

crisp, like the red of autumn.

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Love Letter #48: Unnatural

I roll over,
but he moves closer,
his fingers finding the softness
of cheeks;
the fondness in a gaze;

my feelings,
without even looking,

like the way he seeks me
in dreams
on a white horse, rides in,
his voice awakening me
at just the right moment;
with gentle kisses
on the forehead

to hush the fear;
to soften the blow.

It has been said that our closeness
is unnatural,
like how his hand feels empty
without mine inside it
and how I still cry,
surprised by the pink roses
behind his back
on Valentine’s day.

They don’t understand
that it isn’t the fluff;
the perfect pink petals,
or the romantic gesture,
but the sweet look on his face
that I am still so in love with.