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,

like the union of us.


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.



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

could I just lay
in your shadow

dancing to the rhythm?



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.




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

gone in limbo
under clotheslines;

an angel
escorting me
through the gate.




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.


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,

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.