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The Frailty of October

I find tranquility
in flowers
and forgiveness

in a field of constellations

when every eye is sleeping
and the only sounds I hear
are the whistle of midnight trains,
fingers typing bittersweet goodbyes,

and the echoes of a frail moon’s violin
strumming the last chords of October.

~

~prayers go out to the victims of the Vegas shooting and their loved ones ❤

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Love Letter #52: Turn the Page

As that door swung open
at 2:00 am,
(always my prophetic hour,)
I knew these bare feet
would find wildflowers;

fingers wrapped in the warmth
of his,
this heart –
skipping beats

within the sound of syllables

a collective sigh
of moon awaiting sun.

A first book is birthed in pain;
love spilled upon pages one
through forty-eight,
hidden in quivering pen
by the flicker of a candle,

but, turn the page,
and there is a light!;
a pirouette of words
swirling,

a kaleidoscope;
a skyful of enamored stars
and the joyful prance of souls

joining the letters
of love’s sentence

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Love Letter #44: Severed Merger

You left my heart
on the boardroom floor
Friday, June 23rd at 12:40

just after your lunch settled,

you skillfully drafted
this unsettling letter.

I feel like a broken contract,
and oh, my spirit, shattered,
falling, like the expectations
I built like blocks in your image.

I made you tall, but the idol
came crashing down

and I wondered if you ever noticed

my eyes are the color of yours;
my timid smile, this face,
so easily erased from your mind
as if I never existed,

Oh, but I do

and these broken pieces
can be put back together
by a carpenter

and a love that never fails.

~

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Against This Present Darkness

Eyes rise and fall
with simple shading of clouds
upon a face;
a bowed head
seeking shelter
from raging tempests;

from love’s ache.

Night comes quietly
like snowflakes in winter;
like the whisper of psalms
​ beyond candlelit curtains.

I keep your words with me
soft syllables of grace,
sweet shelter

in the midst of my storm.

~

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Morning Glory

 

Oh, light, posing promise,

                        like posies,

        picked apart, strewn;

             hidden,

        like morning glory,

 

                                blooming

                below bedroom windows.

 

Oh, jealous moon

     tempting twilight,

        with its scattered stars

 

         swirling,

 

  like the thoughts

         you left me with.

~

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Still

Rumors flew south
for the winter-
February came and went
and we never saw a trace
of your heart.

April, she blows in
like a Texas storm,
quietly crushing softness
to the pit, so it hurts
leaving us still as the words
left unsaid,

swept under the welcome mat,
hung on the clothesline
like Grandma’s tea towels;

crisp and hard
when they come down.

~
Day 25 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)