Let Saturday spill through my window;
silhouette of daffodils reflecting yellow
through the shutters as I turn over
and his hand is missing from mine,
but the scent on his pillow remains,
leaving me inhaling the presence
of love and last night’s conversation.
We hesitate to let morning come,
but, oh, how the sun lends light to life;
the red glimmer from a cardinal
taps a love song upon the stained glass;
butterflies chasing daisies, swaying
even in the absence of an august breeze.
At six o’clock A.M., silence hums
and a far away melody strums
to my heart, soft, like his blessings;
like the words we whisper
when no one else is listening.
Footsteps echo the dance
of a harpist’s chords;
psalms falling like secret stars
as yesterday’s rusted tears
sculpt this silhouette;
soften this heart
into a puddle of adoration
swirling like pretty poetry
bowed at your feet.
I thought love was an arrow;
a pain that stole last breaths,
but, oh, the realization of you!;
a light that illuminates
from one beautiful name
dropping me to my knees,
one voice that whispers
through my right hand,
spreading an infectious love
in syllables of solace-
this pen, leaking red;
your words in my mouth.
I could feel a hush in the crowd;
a murmur of discontent
as words left my lips and fell like conviction
upon empty, but, unwilling vessels.
If only words could penetrate hearts,
like birdsong through sheer curtains
on sleepy-eyed Sundays.
I can hear his harp hum
like the psalms he left;
words that pull me up and break me
leaving me here with this pen, weeping
like a poet who writes to herself
hoping a reflection of this deep, deep love
will seep through the pages
and touch a soul,
and touch a soul.
Oh, light, posing promise,
picked apart, strewn;
like morning glory,
below bedroom windows.
Oh, jealous moon
with its scattered stars
like the thoughts
you left me with.
I pour myself into your words,
taste them like an elixir
and run head-first
into a field of alliteration
blooming like daffodils
between the pages
of unconditional love
letters, still breathing
your last syllables.
At the sound of your voice,
there were rivers, running,
stars dancing ribbons
around the moon
and there was me,
a tiny spark
within this vastness,
just waiting to become a light.
~Day 30 and final day of NaPoMo! (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)
Blooming can be the saddest season.
from a tombstone
covered in last Winter’s poinsettias.
I closed my window ,
drew the blinds,
wandering through the wildflowers
of my mind
to the last glimpse of sun;
feelings following the scent
all the way to the end of April.
~Day 28 of NaPoMo *a poem a day in April for National poetry month)
Working on my book and thought I should share a few thoughts…If you are feeling lost, betrayed, abandoned or alone, I have been there and I can tell you, you are never alone. If you have lost family or friends, God will restore relationships and even bring you new family and friends, and as in my case, he will even bring you someone who loves you unconditionally. Someone who sacrifices their own needs to make you happy; someone who puts you first…someone who makes you laugh when you are in tears…someone who not only accepts you with all of your baggage, but puts it on their back and carries it with you. So, if you are looking around and see no one, it is an illusion because if you see only one set of footsteps, they aren’t yours…..I love you all …. and I am not the only one… ❤