She walked in wildflowers,
tickling feelings
with thoughts of him
and poetry under willows,

but, they cemented the park

leaving only petalled remnants
peeking through the cracks.



Like the Flowers in Her Garden

In the silence,
I wrote answers
to his psalms,
and you blessed each page
with your presence;

your robe, the petals,
the mist of you.

I am writing a poem a day from November 24th until December 25, 2017 to celebrate the birth of Jesus. .. This is day 7


Love Letter #43: Finding You

I happened upon your syllables,
between pages of love poetry,
drew hearts around the letters
of your name, following mine
and filled myself

with a new perspective.

I watched a flirtatious moon
and its surrounding stars
dance a delicate finale,
blue as midnight,

like the dreams formulating
in my head

and as the sun rose,
like a swirling of skirts,
all of the faded wildflowers
I walked past before,
bloomed at my feet,

pink as these blushed cheeks
that rose and fell
for you.




All I wanted was to stop the noise;
the bleak conversations in my head.

My whole life has been words-
words and thousands of tears.
You brought me baubles and beads,
gold, shiny things, but, oh!,
what I would have given
for a few moments of your time.

I see you standing there
your hands holding long, red stems

after you stole my heart.

Day 29 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


Shadow of a Lily

Clear the vines
from my window
and break the silence
until whippoorwill’s song
invites morning
through sheer blue curtains,
watching branches sway;

sunny lilies in waiting
painting yellow shadows
on the wall.

I’m listening.

Day 10 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


I Always Hold My Breath In Spring

I love how you humor me;
pick wildflowers in May
when our feathered lashes
should be sleeping in,

wrapped like ribbons
‘round that cherry blossom.

Breezes attempt to stifle play
as we toss adjectives to each other;
alliteration rollin’ off our tongues.

The cardinal swung his tail
painting amore’
into the sunlight of my window
and all I could do was smile

at how the little things
seem so big to me now

and we are so small.




I fell into sleep,
circled blue lace sensitivities
within a fog of allure,
gazing upon blushed cheeks
of curiosity;

arms of silhouettes
meeting visual height
of enchantment
and landed face up
under the precious, snow dusted

of us.