As I stand there in the isle
besides the bottles of detergent

That I entered knowingly
that you were there

As if a spotlight runs behind
your every step shining light

That evaporates the
humidity and discomfort,

I still have to pretend to be
Someone to be able to

Strike up a conversation,
It flows and shapes

Around my tongue,
That dances a tune

I wish for you to hold
Very dear,

And then I slide away
On the concrete floor

Not as dark as it used to be,
As I think to myself,

If not now,
Then when?

As the river formed
By the rain
Creates casualties
Through the creaks
Of the streets

And the birds
Swoop down
From the clouds
To have a drink
From the new
Source of life
That has sprouted,
Purified by
the indigestion
Of the planet,

I find myself
Thinking past
the thoughts
And contemplating
Upon the never ending
Spiral that sits
On my kitchen table,
Rotting with time,
Not being able to move
As if it glued itself
Unto the wood,
Obsessed with
Making me roam
Around the room,
Turning it into
My own personal
Psych ward.

What a way to live
In this age.

The cloudy night sky
Didn’t let me see the stars today
It was just me and the moon
Enjoying our time together
Being more than just friends
Being less than, anything else.

The unobtainable moon,
Chatting with a mere poet
That doesn’t know
where he’s stands
Between himself and her,

What does he seek?
What does he want?

He doesn’t know,
It doesn’t know
where or why
Or how,
He just knows
That he doesn’t know

And that time will tell,

In different ways

Life will answer him,
What he’s been
screaming to the moon

All those years.

I think back
To those moments
Where you can grab
The rays of sunshine
That rarely come through
The clouds of a week
Of rain.

Or the blankets feel
Like the hugs of
A past lover,
Compassionate,
Like the ever haunting
Weight of the person
You truly loved.

And the night
Serves as a companion
As you gaze up
To the stars,
Wondering if they
Ever feel the need
To gaze back.

The skeleton of the trees
have gotten their color back,
The cats play among
The fallen leafs,
All while a hand grips
And holds tight unto
My chest.

I’m waiting for the night
To show it true colors,
So I can feel at peace,
And let go.

As I dwell in the
Depths of a high,
Valleys of passion
And the wishes
Of being someone
take over,
The ceiling of
My bedroom
Open up
As if it was
A baseball stadium
On a sunny day,
Just so I can have
A smoke in the comfort
Of my own bed,
I lay in the ashes
Cursed with
the past,
The present,
the future.

I wonder why
Your hair is
Always covered,
But not enough
For me not to see
A part where
The back
Of my fingers
Could gently
Caress as
It curls around
Them like
Mandevilla,
They can
Make themselves
At home,
And grow a
Garden covering
My arms
And protect me
Against the
Sunshine
That tans
And burns
My skin.

Have I lost you,
In the cardinal
winds?

Has it lifted you,
Far from where
We are?

When I used to think
About my dad,
Not much came up,
But I remember
Getting excited,
Every time my mom
Picked up the phone
And it was my him,
On the other line,
Asking when he
Can pick me up,
Scheming for
A good time

It felt almost like
A school trip,
On those yellow
Trucks without
Ac but a stereo
System that would
Shake the windows
Of the new houses
I get to see.

Always an adventure,
Always something new
To experience,
Always good.

It’s as if the bad
Was concealed
Behind the curtain
That just closed up
The actors of a
Very corny drama,

It was hard to come
To him in times of need,
Always working,
Always busy,
Always in love,
Always living a life,

But lately,
He has been helping
Me kick stones out
Of my path.

“Necesitas algo”

“Estás bien mi niño””

“Si tú eres mi hijo,
Esto es lo que va pasar”

If you are my son,
He says.

I fall down from exhaustion,
And accept his apology.

The window blinds
Open for the
First time since
I’ve been living here,
A potted plant
Shadows the
Streets during
The night
And during
The day it
Hugs the walls
Tight.

A figure walks down
The rooms,
Gliding as if
She was ice skating
Across the carpeted
Floors.

I’m sitting across,
Smoking,
Watching
The shadows swim
Through the
Washed down
Windows,

Tones of a home
Can be seen,
I wonder what
Goes on inside.

I found you
In my skin,
Rushing through
Like blood of a
Fresh cut that is
Bound to heal,
as the trees
Gently extend
Their hand
for the wind
That just asked
them for a dance,
I tremble among
The branches,
Ignored
Behind every
Leaf of a
Flourishing tree

Oh, my everything,
How my heart
Has been forgotten,
Waiting to be claimed
And hold you
By the waist,
Pull you close
Enough for only
The space in between
The words and the
Light of the moon
To go in between us,

But the rivers
Did not form,
It wasn’t enough rain,
And I remain,
Like a small tower
That falls apart
With time,
Devoured by the
Fauna,
Even if it falls,
I’ll still remain,
Like unending
Light,
Or cave windows
That open to
A valley of gold
Covered by
Bougainvillea
Shrubs,
With a chilling
breeze to
Keep me company.

Es tanto,
Lo que eh callado,
Muchos espacios
Entre palabras
Que bajan
Las nubes a tus
Pies para
Acolchonar el
Piso que caminas,
Y con un bulto
De rayos de sol,
Camino para
Cuando tus dias
Caigan desvelados
Y la noche mucho
Más oscura de lo normal
Esconda tu sonrisa
Entre las sombras
Y la angustia
Abrirlo y alegrarte
Con la calor de
Un sábado
En donde las
Lluvias descansan
Y los pájaros cantan
Entre la gente
Libre de un día
Más de trabajo.

If I had one wish,
Just one,
It would be
To be eternal,
Immortal,
Soaking in
Life as I play
With the water
And drink
From the fountain
Of youth
That with one
Sip pulls back
My skin and
Opens my
Arteries all
While the
Forrest inside
My lungs oxygenates
And purifies
The atmosphere,
I hope I learn to
Forgive myself,
That I will be
Reborn with
Some discipline,
An undying wouldn’t
Dare be tormented
And punished,
He would love,
Unbranded,
Unconditional,
The type of love
That teaches you
How to live,
oh, to feel
That type
Of love again
In between
War and plague,
And death,
That now walks
Attached to the hip,
Of someone that
Has learned to let go.

I moved a lot when I was a kid,
5 different Houses in the midst
of humid heat, and if I could
Open each door one by one
With bronze, silver and second hand
Keys, i don’t know which one
I could call home.

My first house,
Built tall in wood, a two story
Without the first floor
Or a tree house without the tree,
The curving stairs left so many,
Bruises on my legs and arms,
But still it would call to me,
I would fall asleep in other
Peoples houses and I would
Wake up, amazed at the embrace,
Of those wooden walls
And creaking floors.

I remember moving down
The street to my second home,
Deeper into the barrio,
My uncle and his friend
Carried my swing set,
And my mom walked in
Front with trails of fire adorning
Her feet, and a look in her
Eyes screamed “so one,
Help me please”

Finally, with sweat rolling
Down my chin under
The glaring sun,I notice
A Frankenstein of a house
That hid behind quenepa trees,
The fence was crooked,
The gate scraped the concrete
Floor, a hollow concrete
House with so much to tell,
But so little to show,
The gloominess and despair,
Inherited from my mom
Followed me from there on.

The third house was short lived,
How can a house full of people
Be so empty inside,
But it would smell like coffee
During the day and during the night,
With a cigarette blanket in the back,
And bbq weekends when the rain
Didn’t bother to show up,
I saw waterfalls rush my moms
Eyes on cold morning calls,
And quiet rides,
The silence was deafening,
As if it ran through the open
Windows with knifes
Trying to take us off the
Road into the river
That flowed underneath
The highway on my way to school.

I wasn’t there much in my fourth
And fifth house, time passed
Faster when I wasn’t inside,
And when I was the ceiling,
Melted into the sky,
Letting the stars shine
Through, giving me
A little taste of outside.

In between everything,
And everyone,
I didn’t realize how
Much of myself I left behind.

The trees grow
And will keep
Growing old,
The minutes pass
Through them
Dying off at
61 seconds
Like a stem
Of bundled
Up geraniums
That waited
for the cold
To pass,
A corpse murdered,
Leaving only the
Skeleton of what
Was once loved,
Motionless with age,
And then comes the rain,
Washing away
Spilled blood,
Silence, rain,
Turning the ground
Into stone,
Where a river will
Run through,
Waving life
As butterflies emerge
From their cocoons,
Natural, a sign,
Like the light
That shines upon
The moon and
the moon shines
Upon us,
So much fog
Will dim it
So much
Like smoke
Breaking loose
From a fire,
In the woods
Nothing is certain
But the man living,
And eating,
And smiling,
Noticing that
The trees
Eat time.

As I drive back
from Beaumont
After almost
Getting scammed,
Me an my friend
Start Laughing
Uncontrollably at
The events
that unfolded,
To our right over
The barricades
Of the highway
and behind
The Minute Maid
Stadium,
A multitude
of skyscrapers
Stand like
well dressed
Business men
Wearing the sky
Like an
elegant hat,
Suddenly
They part
Ways for
the highway,
Glaring the
Suns shine
On each blue
Tinted window
Like a wave
Frozen in place,
Waiting to
burst against
The busy
people driving
Home or
maybe to work,
So many
and so busy
That the crowd
starts to
Grow and
the car stops,
I put on some music
For the wait and
Find comfort in a
City I thought
Once cursed.

Why don’t we sit together
To enjoy the sounds of the city,
Like moss on a rock
Watching dragonflies
Fly by as their
Wings gently caresses
The maga flower that
Hangs down their petals
Upon the shadow
Of a colossal tree
Who’s trunk has grown
Wrinkled with age,
how tall
Does he Stand,
Majestic as skyscrapers
That blend into the night
Sky with lit windows
As stars that shine
A spotlight upon the streets,
I can only see it on you,
My love that in between
Sitting quietly,
Throws glances at me
Like daggers against
A target dummy,
Followed by a smile
That stitches these
Wide and deep wounds.

The sun has come up,
Behind well watered trees

With that bright yellow
warm that it brings

I look outside my window,
From the opened blinds

That I leave for my cats to look
Out into the world

And sunbathe in pure light
While waiting for squirrels

A glimpse of peace flows
into me and out of me

I won’t remember this moment,
Insignificant as it is

It still means that I am here,
On a sunny morning

Where I don’t have to work,
Or do chores

The mountains are still
Wearing the horizon

The rivers are still
Marching down their backs

February is rolling
Around the corner

After that the wind
Will sing in March

I’m no longer sure
What’s important

All I know is that
This peace won’t last.

I started to notice the walls
In my room again,
Empty,
Painted in white,
I wonder if peace lilies
Would compliment
The agony and anguish,
Or if I sit in the middle
Of the room,
As quiet and still
As a Lotus flower,
Delirious and vacant,
Will thoughts of letting go
Pass through my nervous
system and out of my body,
I look at my finger nails,
They have come from a
Place of war and anger
And love and trials,
Where would I be with them?

Vengo de Ríos
Que no explican
De donde vienen
Ni a donde irán,
Vengo de playas
Donde la arena
Vio huellas
Que rencorosas
Aguas esconden
Entre olas,
Pero allí siempre estarán,
Vengo de carreteras
Blindadas con
Árboles de Aguacates
y las guanábanas que
No caen se pudren
Entre las hojas que no
Marchitan,
Vengo del olor
Que trae el ojo
Del huracán,
Calma entre tormenta,
Una pura realidad,
Y traeré todo esto
Conmigo,
En un bulto donde
Guardo nostalgia
Y melancolía,
Tu nombre allí
También está,
Y aunque viva
En pueblo
O en ciudad,
Esa isla bendita,
Isla del encanto,
Mi borinquen,
Como huella en
Arena de una playa
Sin colonizar,
En mi corazón a
Dejado mucho que contar.

tonight the moon
shares her glare with us,
Giving us permission to look,
Blushing light,
Dimmed among
The constellations
That surround the
High ceiling above our heads,
But bright enough to
Be able to see the
Smile on your face,
Sadly I sit alone today,
Like I’ve sat for the
Past seven to eight months,
I’ve learned to enjoy
Moments like this,
I say alone,
But I share the night,
With the moon
And the stars
And the trees
And open lit
Windows,
I finish my cigarette,
With a last smoke
That seems to triple
In size because
Of how cold it is,
And I run inside
To the warm
And my cats
That lay with me
On this beautiful night.

As I drive besides
The bayou,
Under cold
Plagued trees,
Thoughts of swinging hammocks
In the midst of humid heat
Pushes through
every other thought,
Francisco swings on the
Second hammock
That sits a little deeper
Into the the skeleton
Of a concrete house
That begs to be built,
Abandoned but not,
He’s probably high
Off his mind,
Classes are passing by,
The moment was now,
And what a way to
Spend it.

Are you happy Sisyphus?
Do you ever think
Of the end?
Do you miss the ones
You loved,
And the ones
That loved you?
Do you wonder,
Of the flowers that
Grow to your right
Or maybe your left?
Is it truly fulfilling
To push and push
Just to start all
Over again when you get
That little feeling in your chest?
butterflies of content,
False hope that always
Let’s you down,
Not slowly, or with care.
But abrupt and so full
Of disappointment.
I’d dare think of you
As a happy man,
Camus thought that
The struggle itself
Was enough to fill
A man’s heart,
But I stand here
Holding unto my
Door frame
As the wind howls
And tangoes across
The empty street,
Blowing the leaves
Of a seasons past
Trying to hold unto
My feet.
How can I find happiness
In struggle Sisyphus,
Will it always be like this?
Im too curious,
Too distracted,
Too ready for the end,
Oh, I can’t wait for all
Of this to end,
Maybe then I’ll see,
That as my fingers latch
And my body flails,
There always has been
A smile on my face.

I find myself lost for words
Every time that I stand in front
Of you,

I can feel my eyes looking for
Yours getting disoriented along
the way, eye contact has
never been my
Strong suit,

As I see the walls close in on us,
I can feel all that I’ve been wanting
To say get stuck on the roof of my mouth,
Creating a sky with stars that burns
A hole through,

In the few years that I’ve lived,
I’ve never been a talker,
But I think of all the ways
I would tell you how
The way you walk away,
Leaves me craving that you
Would turn around and give
Me a little more of your time,
Precious, I’m lost in what
I should have said,

In the space in between your steps,
In the way your hair curls and drips
Down your shoulders putting
Down a blanket where I could lay,
I find myself caged,
Bound to the bars by ball and chain,
Wishing that these words would
Find their way to you,
To let you know how
You make me feel
On a day to day.

To you,
How much city
Do you need,
How much hunger
Will suffice,
You have feet
That will walk,
You have hands
That will do,
A voice that echoes
Through the shining lights,
And ears that could listen
To the beat of the stars
That shine above
The sky scrapers,
The city will bring
Spring and summer,
So dress in color
Since today the wind
Was born among
The rain that puddles
The streets.
laugh, crying will
Bring so much cold,
More cold than forgetting
To live.
And I will laugh with you,
Parked outside a diner
On a rainy day.
It doesn’t seem that cold
Today my friend,
The roots of the trees
With fallen leaves
Are healthy,
Waiting to flourish again.
Oh, how much city we have,
So much thirst.

Between the freezing
Rainy days,
your cold stares
and deafening silence,
I don’t know which
One is worse.

Ay, despertador en las mañanas,
En taza de cerámica
Tan ancha como el cielo
O tal vez como la tierra,
Te creo entre temblequeo
Y la serenidad de una
Noche estrellada.

I sit down,
Near the flame
Riddled coals
On top of a box
That’s made
to cook pernil,
My dad opens it
For the 100th time,
To show me how
it’s going,
Excited,
This is the first time
They have done this
Since they moved to
This little town
Of broken arrow
Oklahoma,
He hands me a beer,
Sits down and tells me
Of past heartbreaks,
Even the ones before and
After my mother,
That I should
Stop with the
cigarettes,
Lectures,
I sit and listen,
With a new perspective,
Skinnier than I was last time
I was here,
With how good the food is
I might leave with the pounds
That shaded in the shirts
That I wear,
My little brother,
Playing the piano
He got for Christmas,
Wearing a grinch shirt,
My uncle comes in,
Sits down and talks about
His time with my great grandfather,
I find myself happy,
Listening
Invested,
In times of loss,
Of regret,
Reborn,
A Red Baron,
Among the ashes
Of what once was.

It’s midnight,
Im driving down
69 north
Towards Oklahoma
The stars won’t
come out tonight,
Maybe it’s too cold
Or too hot,
Or they are too shy,
They just won’t come out,
Leaving the sky
With a distinct
Grey hue,
To my right,
The sound of
Metal hitting metal
Follows me,
A friend maybe a foe,
A beast,
I can barely catch a silhouette
In between the trees and
The foliage,
Until we reach
The radio towers
That showers whatever
It’s on the other side
With a deep red
I’ve only seen in blood,
A train
It sounds tired,
Discouraged,
I empathize,
I wonder when will
It be bestowed the
Honor to rest
And if it’s loved,
we both
Just keep going.

It’ll always be you,
The same way
It’ll always be me.

In an ideal future,
I’ll have a
House near a river
By the mountains
Of Puerto Rico,
My own cafe
With amazing books
And ever greater
Baked goods,
But the lines
Get blurred
When I think of you.

You,
Angel of the fortunate,
Breathtaking and majestic,
Wearing beautifully woven
Sun kissed robes
That follow you
Like your shadow does,
Only the sweet scent
Of peaches and cream
Shapes you,
Divine as a Greek sculpture,
With a smile that stuns
And gives photographic memory
To whoever has held a
Four cloverleaf before.

I’ll hold your hand,
Walk down the path
Behind what we
Would call our home,
Suddenly the silence
Start to get deafened
By the sound of rushing
Water and leafs that
While dancing with
The breeze crumble
In your admiration.

As we sit on
Moonlight showered
Mossy stones,
I’ll find out,
I can’t seem to
Remember your name.
And while  the water
doesn't touch my feet,
ill get up to keep walking
until my nervous system
gives out and the burning stops
or I find you,
Whoever you are.
To show me how cold the water can be.

Once again
I stand still
And not like
a tree,
Or a parrot
through
The eyes of
an ocelot
Or eternity,
Or prophecy,
I am but
the minuscule man.
I am Man,
Not the moon,
Celestial stone,
In love,
Amid whiteness.
Or the stars
Twilight thieves,
Sparkled fire,
Fluttering with
The wind.
I don’t
understand
What the
wind says,
So I let it talk
Among the branches,
I can hear it through
My open door,
Invasive,
Running through
My living room,
Through wood
And memories,
Bridges burned,
I close my door,
A black hole,
A deep minute
In silence,
Misery,
Like moldy bread
On the table,
Overwhelmed
With grief,
So quite,
Like loss
And agony
And ***** water.
But everything changes,
The night passes,
A second,
A minute,
A year,
And everything changes,
Rye grass starts to grow
Around my toes
And below my feet,
Life,
Tenderness,
Inevitable,
Beautiful and warm
Like laughing
Or running,
Or drinking coffee.

In times of discomfort,
We’ll flourish
In between shivering
Trunks and mildew.

The pollen of a new
Life will give and give
To generations to come.

And as the shadow
Of a well crafted cloud
Covers what the eye can see,
We’ll fly high above
With the sound
Of a solitary bell.

And we’ll do,
In a glorious fall
Ignited in passion
That melts the skin
And scorches the bone,
As comets and stars do.

Inclinado en una tarde sombría,
Entre tinieblas y la falta de calor,
Te solté como un pájaro nocturno
Y te vi volar entre las primeras
Estrellas que centellan tú llegada
Como mi alma cuando la tocastes
Por primate vez Amor mío.

Y aunque fui yo quien te solté,
Eh ido marcando con antorchas
Tu llegada inesperada.

Tengo historias que contarte,
Comida para enseñarte,
Besos que regalarte,
Callados, delirantes
Se pierden en este pueblo
En donde te amaba.

Oh mi vida,
Entre el silencio que me arropa
Y la voz algo se va muriendo,
Algo de angustia y olvido,
Algo entre las nubes y las estrellas,
Algo como la caída de un árbol.

Sin embargo, mis cuerdas vocales
Se bañan entren estas palabras fugaces,
Algo canta entre señales de humo,
Gritar, cantar, huir entre hojas
Marchitas del invierno.

Tú estás aquí, tú no huyes,
Tú me responderás hasta el último grito,
Sin embargo, alguna vez vi como corría
La tristeza debajo de las olas de tus ojos,
Y mi todo, apenas quedan gotas temblando.

Y triste y fuerte amor mío,
Que haces de repente que no llegas?

In late afternoons,
When the sky isn’t as
Forgotten by the bystanders
That walk the sidewalks
And the more fortunate
That drive the streets
God turns into a magnificent painter,
With oranges and blues and whites
On the blank canvas,
He lets you know how talented
He is with a brush,

I don’t believe in god,
I’m not a good Shepherd
Or the sheep.

But, do you see the color
Of the sky
When it’s the sun’s turn to sleep?

And do you see these hands?
They have loved and hurt,
They have cooked and baked
They have opened and closed doors,
They have demolished the distances
Of all that is land and sea.
yet,
They stop in between celestial change,
To observe an artist at work.

I’ll sit,
Unsatisfied In the well
In which I dug myself in,
With nothing but these hands
That I have done so much with
And the sky that while
Being turned into another museum piece,
signals me another night.

He who walks
Will find that
The stinging
summer sun
Leads the loved ones
Over clear waters.

Beneath elegant
Palm trees
That when time to
Take a break
It creates a shade
Like no other.

The perfect place to sit,
Only when the flourishing
Mountains casts a shadow
On the other side of
The extensive range.

Even so, it’s such a
Beautiful place to sit.

More when the made
Of fat and skinny and
Happy and sad and
Continuous life
Is there to observe
The sunset that
Changes the sapphire
Blues to flaming oranges

Ready to be taught by
The twilights of the
Most unfortunate and
The seducers.

A dark tunnel
Where the Young
Women jog
And the cows
And the pigs
Have tasted blood
And the morning sun
Is taking a little
Longer to come up.

Tunnel
that can only
Be traverse with
Experience and
Burning cinnamon.

And oh, evil one.
The night will cast an
Eternal veil.

And what an enormous,
And eternal night this is.

What a lonely night.

And evil one,
Between the burning sea
And the pale morning,
You’ll find the quiet
Of husks and dead fish,
Trembling foam of
Retreating waters,
And messages in bottles
Never read before.

And silence will come
Wrapped in a blanket,
Galloping on beach *****
And flying machines that
Leave faster than they go.

It’ll cure the absence of warmth
While the days, the months,
The time passes by.

The morning will come,
Brandishing celestial blood,
Turning the sea ablaze.

To let you know,
That you have escaped
Once more.

Bukowski wrote
“I loved you
like a man loves
a woman he never
touches, only writes to,
keeps little photographs of.”

And I wish that was the case,
Because when the night
Gets darker and darker
And the streets
Get filled with shiny
Lights and long days,

I start to remember the
Smell of your hair,
The silk on your skin,
The dew on your eyelashes.

And the poems
You have written about me,
The bad ones,
And the good ones.

When the room starts
Smelling like rot and
Decay.

And I can’t keep my hands
Off of the kitchen knifes
And the lights flicker
Morse code.

I think to myself
what if I would have stayed
In the comfort of my home
And sunk in the problems
That I had and didn’t have.

What would have been
Of my life.

I took on poetry,
And books,
And more books
To calm the bitter
Taste of salt water.

My heart
Takes no respite,
As it swallows and
Drowns in the
Mediocrity.

While autumn
Sinks his teeth
Into meat
That I so
Solemnly
Follow
Catching up
With every
Living breath
Just to feel the bite
Marks left behind.

My heart is not
One to give up.

I live
Through misery,
In hopes that it’ll
Bloom in the
Evenings of spring
Bringing the butterflies
That I wait to wake up
With one day,
My stomach has been
Empty for a second too late.

And the bees,
Oh the bees.

So magnificent
As they succumb
To the nectar
And take it back
Home to be made
Into honey.

Hard workers in
Look of hard work.

Patience is virtue
And I’ll wait in the
Roaring sea.
Through harsh winters
And freezing rains.

Just to feel,
What I’ve felt again.

“It’s in the water”
They say,
“It’s in the cigarettes”
The yell,
“It’s in the food”
They proclaim.

Only if they knew,
That the earth
Sings a tune
That tells my feet
To move.
And that it’s
Truly in the everlasting
Silence that accompanies it.

I sit,
and look at the
Gardeners with
Their shovels
And mowers.

the steam cleaners
In their white vans
On their way to scam
Their next victim.

the retail workers
With bags
Underneath
Their eyes,
So tired of waiting
For the last check
of the month,
And the second job they
Have to hold.

The mundane drips
From their open wounds,
And I just hope,
To be more like them.

I’m certain,
That one day
I will forget.

Until that day
Comes

I will remember
To forgive all that
Should be forgiven,
Myself for that matter.

And most importantly,
I will love all that
Should be loved,
I will live through
All that should be lived.

I will seek the
Field of daisies
That waits for me
Patiently,
At the mountain top.

I won’t look down,
Except for when I do,
To remember you,
Beautiful and
Only beautiful.

I can’t wait,
To lay my heart to rest,
On the flower bed,
That sits at the peak.

I’ll sit right besides it,
And as I forgive and forget,
I’ll find peace
In the changing of the winds,
And the breathtaking
Sunset over the horizon.