Polka dots tumbled from your dress
Settled
To mirror                           
Constellation Andromeda
                                     Far from home
Your attire
Changed character
Became lost in surroundings
              That didn't ask you to leave  
Gravity changed
Clouds were contained
       Moon was outpaced by the sun

Someone once told me;
"Writing is a lonely experience"
It really is
No one sees you toiling away at night
Fighting the demon of anti life
as he tries to make you end it all
No one sees how much thought you put into one word
As you alight your tired mind trying to predict how this will impact your story
No one sees your many hours of work tearing away at research while fighting the demon of madness
No one sees your dreams and aspiration to be the best
And when they do you become a golden rag
Used to clean the fat cats dark mouth
No one sees your endless night trying to organise your ideas into fantastic world and when they do they link it to something unrelated
No one sees how you slowly lose yourself to the unrhythmic assonance associated with the unrelated
No one sees just what you're trying to portray as they have to interpret their own meaning
No one hears the click-clack of the keyboard that slowly hypnotize you into oblivion
And if you finally finish you hate it

There is a beauty
in summer
in the warm winds
caressing your hair

There is a beauty
in sunshine

In endless days
slumbering by
reading Derek Walcott
and Charles Baudelaire.

There is a happiness
in summer
of bright skies
and ice cream parlors.

of fond memories
and fonder friends

For the joys of summer
are never truly forgotten.

I am the moon
Woman and attune
I am the sun
Man and one

I am the lost
Wandering around
I am the recovered
Safe and sound

I am the aggressor
Baring teeth
I am the victim
Bleeding my soul

I am everything
And nothing at all
I am loved
I am hated
I am human

Only the sun and the moon
Can see me so beautifully
For when their lips touch
They are everything to see
And yet so utterly blinding

Dear Shane, you will get well.
You have a long battle ahead.
Fight it with all your might.
Don't give up.

Look straight into the eye of death.
Tell it to go back.

Ask death to come -

when you are 100 years old,
when all your hair turns silver,
and all your teeth fall off.

That is when you will meet death, smiling.

The peach tree next door grew over your fence.
Can you believe it?
It’s big enough now for you to pluck a peach,
No ladder needed.

I think you'd care,
Because this peach tree used to be a sapling—
Barely a foot tall when we first planted it.
We had to be more patient than we'd like to admit,
But now its branches are strong enough
To weather the seasons, carrying all that’s tough,
Cradling birds and catching the songs they sing.

It reminds me of us.
It reminds me of you.
You wanted a peach from that tree,
But it took many years to grow—
Just like we did, with naivety, even so.

You have crow’s feet now.
Time has come, and you have grey hairs somehow.
Small lines drawn gently on your face,
But every wrinkle tells your story—
It’s plainly self-explanatory.
Each one a slow, beautiful mark of time that I’d never erase.

And when I look at you,
I don’t see flaws.
I look at you, and with a soft sigh,
I say:

She was a star back then—
But now she’s the whole **** sky.

Some roads are not chosen by us;
they are chosen by fate.
And the one leading to you
is destined for both — my heart and my fate.
After all, you, me, and my fate
are all one.

If you would allow me
I want to make this a reality.
Even though it is beyond practicality.

Perhaps, not new but some symbol of togetherness,
If it could be done in earnest.

To write our names in oneness over that fading sand-
On the beach, we once took our stand.
After all, you, me and our fate— are all one