How many of us

Have people in our lives

Short breathed on concern

Long winded on advice

Who would rather flap the tongue

Than take the time to find

That the art of listening

Is painted with open mind

I still dream of you sometimes
Press snooze
Just ten more minutes
With the idea of you
With the idea I'm not alone
That someone would look at me
With amazement in their eyes
Just ten minutes
Okay?

I'm waiting for leaves to fall off trees
for art to fall at my feet
I'm waiting to wear baggy sweaters
to be wrapped in something cozy
I'm waiting for pumpkin pie
a delicious treat
I'm waiting for sipping on hot tea
my liquid warmth
I'm waiting for Autumn

What does the color remind you of
The color red?
It reminds me of something
I miss
Something I can't have
and something I can't be
it's hard because the color is so pretty
Why must it remind me of you?
Why does everything
remind me of you

You have to take care of yourself
Watch out
Don't go out alone at night
be afraid of every noise
but why are you so afraid
you don't need to be frightened
you're just weak
it's nothing

We can all do with a hug some days -
Some kind words

And the presence of someone who believes in you
Who will never let you down
Who doesn't make you feel insignificant and small
Who appreciates and doesn't condemn
Who won't pull you low
But helps you get up
Who can flip a frown to a smile
Add a little glow
And turn tears to a tickle
Someone who can bring a spring in the step
And a twinkle in the eye
We can all do with love -
When the chips go down
Or even when the wheels are up

We can all do with a hug somedays
So here's one for you.

I wondered into garden of blossomed blue flowers today,
morning glory and forget me not,
sprinkled with dew and swaying always so slight,
tethered but not, bowing but not.
Soft as the shy maiden within' a dream,
levitated blue bell with faces within a face,
always so grounded but eye on sight for heavens,
dreaming of tumbleweeds but rooted to her spot.
The rain from last night has taken away her strength,
but she knows her best to make the raindrops shine,
stubborn to keep her place in mid air,
she still glides and dances amidst her faith's plot.
Never so lavished as reds and pinks of roses,
never so dark but never so soft,
never so layered, just holding few petals to her sleeves,
ever refusing to let them.. ever leave her heart.
There she sits, my bluebell, on the mercy of changing winds,
there she hangs in balance, between fragility and strength,
there she is again, nudging me on while I stayed,
inviting me to admire her but asking not be plucked.

Turquoise children
In the field
Like some acid trip
Or *** plant with a low yield
Purple flowers
Prancing posies
Posing in the summer wind
Dandelions
Yellow flowers
Over there is were
Beauty begins