i saw a host of bluebells they began to ring
standing up so proudly in the early spring.

ringing out there tune a lovely melody
everyone in unison growing wild and free.

with there bright blue flowers gleaming in the sun
playing out there tune to tell us springs begun.

it made me feel so happy as they played along
ringing out for me there lovely springtime song

we do not write poetry
we write mirrors
which are held up
to curious faces
who read
looking for their
own reflections

You are my unsent message.
The cursor blinking rhythmically,
With my heartbeat,
Waiting,
For me to hit send.
But I am not ready,
And I’m not sure if I ever will be
So I left it like that.
Unsent. Unseen. Unread.
“I miss you.”

the Starlings sit atop the Sycamores, singing.
the trees I planted as seeds, long ago.
the Starlings all sing together, and stop as one.
the speckled feathers sparkle like the stars in their black sky
far away worlds in a shared space, singing.

why do I see your hair in every song?
your outline in each sunset
your name like mango
in white sand

lavender skies and
paintings on an apricot wall
in a restaurant
with pad thai burning my throat
that reminds me of your hands

even in paradise
the flowers match your eyes