I'm glad to be a rose
Filled with beauty and grace
It makes me very happy
To be on display in a vase

I come in many colors
Red, pink and yellow
I make the girls happy
When given by a fellow

I come in different shapes
In many different sizes
Some people grow me
And try to win prizes

My aroma intoxicating
So delicate and sweet
Sometimes in your bath
Other times at your feet

I'm happiest in the garden
Growing wild and free
Reaching for the sunlight
Giving pollen to the bee

i guess i should write
about the trees and the skies
but then theres your eyes

What we do in June
as the days stretch into sunsets,
gold stains our ***** skin,

What we do in June
as nights fill the shells that winter shaped,
we become reborn in the lake down the hill,
until we are ready to confess the secrets we will hide all summer,

What we do in June,
after laughter and drinks,
probably a few too many,
is create stories that some day we will lose,

and have to try to recreate in a series of words that
don't come close to the fun we had,
every night,
laughing until we ached,
thanking God for every day we have here,
where dirt gets under our nails and
our hair never had the time to dry in between
the pools we hopped,

What we do in June
is thaw
from a cold winter,
and warm our frozen bones,
and begin once again,
with a life full of things worth writing about,

What we do in June,
love, ***, trees, drugs,
our memories will fade,
but softly like the sunset into that one lake
where we all lost our virginities.

What we do in June is ours to keep,
it's ours to make

.

I circled the rumors in red on my sheet
Sat there and looked for a while
Planned out my day just a start to the week
All in a wait and see style

Considered telling, but then changed my mind
Fractures in time will be known
Feeling betrayed in a truth that does blind
Shunning the light that is shone

So many pass that do not disappear
Hoping the news will retrieve
Headlines and sorrow and shedding a tear
Praying the masses believe

Drinking the praise through a white plastic straw
Savoring every drop
Laughing inside as they digest it all
Knowing someday it will stop

Ordering stones with a carved epitaph
Dictating words as they’re bled
Counting the frowns in the day’s aftermath
Watching from shadows ahead

I could be wrong, I have been there before
Choices I tend to conceal
Though I do know there is one thing for sure
This is not one they will steal

.

I play my guitar,
now crying in sevens
a cold vacant morning
with rain on the ground

Sorrowful chords,
on the strings of emotion
in three quarter tear drops
where sadness is bound

                                   And the storm clouds they form
                                   on the edge of tomorrow
                                   with thoughts ever yearning
                                   for your melodies

                                  dreaming of yesterdays
                                  caught in the feedback,
                                  out of tune longings
                                  in lost harmonies

Breathing in silence
of fret seperations
seeking a songlist
of lyrics unfound  

A chill strums my heart,
sitting empty and hollow
I play my guitar
and there isn’t a sound

.
I have tasted tear drops
Acid from my eyes
Streaming under muted smiles
Cutting deep into my skin
Leaving trails of sadness
Glistening reminders
Along lonely cheeks
When damp expressions
Weren’t expecting rain