Déjà vu

Your name was on my lips
before I knew your eyes
and the way they melt into mine,

so that I must turn away,
pink as the roses
hiding behind your back,

soft, like your heart.

We began this language of ours
with two notebooks behind a tree
exchanging syllables and glances

connecting the dots

between stars
and a jealous June moon

wondering why the deja vu’
beneath a weeping willow
and how our hands
seemed to have held before;
mine gently wrapped into yours,


like words
inside a poem.



Charcoal Outline

If shadows could speak,
mine and yours would converse
about the fragile life
​of daffodils,

the softness of constellations
and the way light billows
through strands of our hair;

silhouettes sleeping

within the length
of one another.



Arranging Flowers

He didn’t carve initials
in that oak tree we lay beneath,
but, we tasted syllables.
rolling off the tongue,
from his lips to mine
and back again,
quenching our thirst
with the juice of poetry
dripping down pink curves;
fingers finding metaphor
within tangled limbs-
searching for alliteration
in a handful of wildflowers;
breaths meeting
in the middle
of love’s sentence


Love Letter #37: Conception (Vignettes)


I found you where the river meets willows
moons away from my loveliest imagination,
where jealous constellations
admire the conception of a love
expressed in glances away,
cheeks, blushing like roses
and the simplest twirl of tresses

with the loudest implications.


Build me a castle
on the white beach
where you found me
a perfect sand dollar.

I don’t mind the twists and turns
we took to get there;
under vines, over hills
like our life;
glorious, uncharted,

of the unpaved road
to San Josef.


Your breath, upon my neck
whispering like the breeze
just before the tide changes
and lips part
like the waves do
with a rush down my spine;
the same one I get
just before I close the door-

and the waft of your cologne settles
on the collar of my robe.


Did you ever notice
I leave my favorite pink lipstick
in the cup holder of your car,
and post-a-notes with a heart
in your lunchbag?;

like the red box of letters
you sent me,
that I still keep close
even though you are near, now.


I like how we sleep
closer than two could;
wrapped cocoon-like
interwoven limbs;
sheltered, like a second skin,
curves, valleys,
the metamorphosis of us.

~Day 22 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)


Love Letter #36: Cinderella on a Tightrope


The warmth of you melts my fear;

inhibition, a puddle beneath my feet

as stray syllables fall from my lips


and the stars that dwell in your eyes

      align with mine

              in a certain symmetry


that clouds share with rain.


I have a sneaking feeling

that an adoration will reign

as butterflies encircle


an irregular heart- –beat


and love falls –

           in a downpour.



~Day 21 of NaPoMo (a poem a day in April for National Poetry Month)





Love Letter # 33: In Chasse’

She spins pirouette
in anticipation
of just one look
at his next stanza.

Alliteration blooms
against the backdrop
of ambiguous metaphor
in chasse’ of love
between lines 6 and 7;

hopeless poet,
blushing pink in sigh,

long before the finale’.

Day 8 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.