Do you remember that time where you were late and I was nervous?

The time where you couldn’t leave it 2 days and I made a playlist “drive with summer girl”

When all we did was let our chests let us know what’s best and the world seemed to fall to the wayside like so many complications we refused at the door.

When the only thing that stopped us was the turning of the sun and the expectations of a world not set on allowing the future that is ours.

My plants have never been so well watered than the cups you left around my house, the knowing you were here, the reminder that not everything is measured.

Everything is so yes but now in a pile of maybes that make my heart quiver in the mourning of the future that never has always been.

Like so many poems at 4 AM to help you sleep, to satisfy the I love you in my soul, to hear the comfort in your voice, the “I’m crazy about you baby” in your eyes that leaves me heart and sleeve in a store just waiting for me to leave.

Sarah said “In my dreams, you spin around me so fast I wake up dizzy” It’s a shame we’re both so busy… Busy in the rooms with no seats and an I love you in every goodnight.

Sarah said, “tell me 10 things that are true”.
But I only need 1.

That one thing is you.

Sitting outside in my grandpa’s veranda,
he passed away before I could appreciate his presence;
he wished for me to come see his art;
his garden, a green maze of trees and bushes,
from marigolds and periwinkle to mango trees and whatnot.

As I lay here on the mat,
close to my grandpa, I might gladly add;
seeing the ants crawl up on the periwinkle blooms
and wild butterflies dancing overhead;
with a bulbul on a mango tree branch
and crows chattering near food dumps;
with a sweet scent of marigold in the air
and crickets chirping in the background;
with a mongoose running on the broad fence
and a squirrel eating rice that my grandma kept;
with the sun rays hitting my face through the trees
and a couple of flies hovering beside my novel;
with a moment of pure serenity,
that brings a peaceful calm to this tranquil space;
my heart feels full and my soul at ease.

As a gentle breeze whispers by,
my hair seems to be afloat.
As the fresh air clears my mind,
I feel alive like never before.
As I hear children playing nearby,
memories of my childhood days come alive;
one of the best moments of my life;
in this veranda forever entwined.
As I feel a soft breath of crispness on my face,
I reminisce about the times I had lived with him;
the village isn't as bad as it seemed.

This is the land where my ancestors lived;
and where I feel his presence still,
he must be smiling sitting on the chair beside me;
finally, content that I appreciate his accomplishment.

indulgence and bliss
two sides of the same coin and a wish
once listless
now released—
she hums.

He wears, with me, the charms of love,
exchanging gentle whispers in storms
of fascinated, trembling union.

He shares with me blue velvet nights
of careful and unmeasurable bliss,
and titivates modest morning rebirths.

He cares for me, reproof us not, we make
no show of virtue, or counterfeit innocency,
but partage, in comfort, this open honesty.

For sow the wiz
and for that the bliss
Flee through the apple tree
It is harvest times
Now jam and sweet like pie
Oh the bliss of a midnight sky

We plied and plowed
and for that the bliss
Fill up a room, no one to miss
It is now harvest times
Us to remember the Queen of ages
Don't forget to pay the wages
Oh the bliss of lovers gazes

Further down the deep deep blue
Of ocean wonders, to remind of all the ships that went through
Rough patches of ill willed weather and stormy faiths
I hope we all remember that it is to Christ we stand our faith

Oh the bliss of Life
Oh the bliss of Faith

Oh the bliss of Summers mother leaving heaps of Love on the stairs
For those who not have the bliss of being sometimes missed
By someone who actually cares
even just a little bear
lonely in the woods a quiet autumn afternoon
Not knowing when winter starts or when to say hello to the moon

Who to say good night, good morning or good bye
When you are a lonely cub in the woods and your mama was a wish on a star.

Regretfully crawling out of a warm blanket to meet a snow covered field.

My cheeks absorb the cold as it seeps through the window.

Begging for no attention, living for nothing but my gaze, a lonely fire grows out of a healthy little pile of embers, nuzzled away in the snow.

The growing stillness over the untouched field reaches through my window and meets me with embrace.

You are the captivating landscape that suspends me in time.

You are the fire that dances only for me.

She was sewn from a stream
of significant disasters,
but she has taken charge of the tide.
Directing the course of the storm,
she became one with the fiercest gyre.
The lightning, the moment
through the raging sea,
the season of her storm is done.
The smell of the after-rain,
the calmness of the shores mended the remnants.
A rainbow of colors and vibrance, the abundance of black clouds is gone.
The beautiful sky,  
a magical release
from these painful bonds.
Courage and kindness,
gratitude and strength,
the real treasures are now found.