Love Letter 53: Elvis and an Empty Chair

I keep two chairs on the porch
even though the conversation
is one-sided and the coffee

doesn’t quite taste the same.

Some nights, when the stars
are brighter than usual,
I turn Elvis up louder,
and share our song

and sometimes,
I could swear
as those white roses sway
in the evening breeze,

I hear you join me
in the chorus.


Out of the Box

There are nights I find myself
standing at that old clothesline;
sleeves waving goodbye to this peace-

this solace that awakening brings,

searching for constellations
that seem to have left me empty
like the words you left
inside the wounds.

Here I am, fingers on the keyboard
feelings in my throat
waiting for the syllables to fall
like fireflies; like whispers

just before my pen hits the floor.

I climbed out of the box long ago
but you stand there, one foot in
one foot out, waiting for an answer;
a simple solution to the dilemma
that looks back at your reality
that cosmetics can’t cover up.



Possibilities are endless
as aspirations blossom,
fade, and bloom again

with the rise and fall
of the sun;

stems firmly planted,
leaves curl,
petals waver in the wind,
wilt and gently tumble
like the sway of wildflowers
in a field of adversity,

edges tattered,

bent, but never broken.


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 ❤


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

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

joining the letters
of love’s sentence


June 23rd

Don’t you hate it when you hear that song;
the one that makes you reach out
when you never thought you would?

I left my heart in a linkedin message-
(that is the only way I knew how to reach him,)
Dear Dad,
never expecting to receive a response,

but, I did.

It was straight forward,
to the point:

“Thank you for getting in touch.
I am so glad to hear that you are happy in
your life, but,”

(that resounding word, ) “but..

I would rather not begin to get involved
after all these years.
I hope you understand.”
and it was signed simply:
“Love always.”

I wondered,
where was the love in that letter?

I could have crawled back
into my safe cocoon,
into that introverted little girl;
that want-to-be poet
that always wanted a daddy,

but, I had already blossomed.