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Love Letter #71: The Vine

You and I are seamless souls,
but, he is in the midst
of our spirits, our breaths;

the vine that holds these branches.

Let these fruits ripen-
not far from the tree;

winds carry sweetness;
sprinkle stars he strewn,
strategically,

like the union of us.

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Love Letter #70: Remnants

I couldn’t feel the sun anymore
or anything yellow, since you,
except butterflies, fluttering
through strands of my hair,
tickling my senses,
stealing my attention,
like you always did.

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Spectator

Should stars need realignment,
flowers, sprinkles of sunlight,
trees seek wind,

could I just lay
in your shadow

dancing to the rhythm?

~

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While Watching You Sleep

Blue curtains shade the silhouette
of a cardinal come to call
sharing morning sun;

feathers finding sprinkles of light
like the way dew forms
on delicate petals
and falls upon standing stems
in the shadow of a willow.

I remember that look in your eyes
as we traded stanzas for kisses
upon lips in waiting

and each syllable, pronounced,

would lend a little simile
to love’s sentence.

~

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Limbo

I’ve worn a path
in circles
‘round begonias,

gone in limbo
under clotheslines;

an angel
escorting me
through the gate.

~

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Beatitudes

To be a daisy
in a field of lilies of the valley
flowing like a ballerina’s skirt,
fragile as moondust;
lovely as a May morning.

To have loved and lost,
to fall like a flower,
is to awaken to sun;
bathe in arms of morning.

To curtsey to stars;
bend, but not break,
is to run against the wind
and find a river
in the middle of a mirage.

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On a Friday

You come to me
in the scent of wildflowers,
dancing beneath my feet,
in hues of cerulean
and magenta,

tickling senses,
permeating breezes;

these pages turning, faster
than fingers can find the words,
reverberating,

like strings of a lyre.

I listen to the sound of wings;
leaves of tree branches
sway and bend, bend and sway

to music I haven’t heard yet.

I chase your heart
down a petaled path;

light calling me home.

~