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Love Letter # 80: (Page 24)

He sent a messenger,
upon a mountain,
to plead mercy
over impending ashes;

folded flowers of the field
faded grass in unripe soil,

and then you came:

and I drank you in
like the last cup of tea
in fine china.

Oh, light in the dark,
you never leave me.
In the torrent,
you cover my face;
save every tear
behind glass,
every smile
in a shadow box

of love.

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What the Wind Can’t Carry

There is a fork in the river
that interrupts the flow,

where you choose north
to rise above it
or sail to the south.

The fall is quick and easy,
soft, temporary landing-
but, the flight is perilous,
uphill, against the wind;

the path less traveled

but the fruits,
oh, how they flower!

ripples tickle the senses,
perk the petals,
spread the word
to all who will listen;

the trumpet
only the remnants
hear.

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Love Letter #79: Stowaway

As I looked across the table at him,
my soul, a two way mirror-
heart dissected, chastised
like love often is,
deflated, misunderstood
like the rhythm
of crashing cymbals
in a poet’s head at 3:00 am.

Everything seems dark these days
fists raging against the wind,
teeth clenched.
He runs beside the train,
she drops her backpack to her feet,
relaxes her face muscles;
exhales.

We still flow like a river,
soft, steady ripples
like my skin
in the wake of his fingers.

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Love Letter #76: Creation

As flowers tickle tiny bare feet,
petals fall from fingers

he loves me,
he loves me not;
life spun into a silk dress
hands hold a bouquet
reflecting the light

from my eyes
to his
loving
days and nights after

my giggle, his smile,
under a sky full of stars
all formed

from just the sound
of your voice.

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The Colors Mornings Make

They never understood my smile
as we passed blooming yellow daffodils
sprinkled with morning; petals reborn
each dawn, like my heart when we awaken;

sunlight breathing through curtains
blue as the peace I find in your words.

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Love Letter #74

Let’s be still, like flowers;
dance when wind swirls,
open petals when sun fades
in and out of ivory clouds.

Let his spirit light
every dark place;
soften beating vessels

until all the love
pours out.

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Just Another Poet’s Perspective on Perfection

From fields of bluebonnets
to scattered, tumbling dandelions,
to yellow painted suns;
the red blur of cardinals in flight
landing upon steeples of grace
singing psalms of adoration;

your canvas flowing
in ripples, before us,

so, how can I sit here
staring

at this empty page?

Should I borrow blue
from your sculptured sky,
clouds bursting ivory stories
to lovers, gazing
tracing silhouettes
attempting to be filled,

but, still,

there are not enough adjectives
to adequately describe this light-
this love penetrating my heart;

the image-
the wonder of you.