Be patient with me
I’m still a work in progress

Somedays I seem put together
But that paint’s not dry just yet

One day I’ll get this right
I’m sorry

you
not the flower but
the bee kissing
rosebuds, making
living things
bloom

you
no sunrise on
mountains but
the sun
herself, every
flame burning fierce
sploding gainst
the sky

you
not an ocean but
a stream softly
babbling
and rescuing
us,
the lonely
the lost

you
not forever
but tragically
temporary
and every
moment
you are here
i will be
what i am -
the pollen,
the planets,
the wanderer,
the poet -
dedicated to
loving
you

in my dreams
i am drowing in a sea of emotion.
my head held just below the surface of the water
and all i have to breathe through is a straw

A beautiful day in September,
The air is breathing yellow,
Painting the leaves golden
with each exhale.
Hues of autumn are unfolding
Warmth and tenderness intertwine,
With sunlight spreading on tree branches.
There's merry laughter in the hamlets,
Their laughter merges
with the sunlight laughing.
It is a reflection of
September's joy.
Somewhere the song of summer is ending,
But what a gift it is to be able to live
In September's warmth,
it protects me
From all sadness.

you might not
have been my first love
but you were the one
who hurt the most.

isolation has its familiarity,
as happiness is a drug
yet not as addicting as
misery.

Changeling, sprite,
loose-limbed motion
as you fly in the night.
Rub your wings together;
create a cascade of sound
that drenches our ears
as you fall to the ground.
Gossamer beauty,
so delicate yet strong--
Fold your wings around me;
I belong in your song.