Ode to Autumn's cold embrace,
Held against a twisted flame.
Loosely blowing wisps of lace
Impossible to tame.

Your masterpiece, in hastened pace,
Is laden with admired fame;
Disguising true, untainted grace
Of nakedness to shame.

I read you quickly
Like little wavelets,
Fidgets, and rebounds

I should have read you slowly;
Patient and poignant
As the shoreline doth prolong

To all that is beautiful, not always pure;
To beauty divine, and all the obscured;
To rhythmical rhymes, and those who lack tune;
To stunning sea shores, and tumbling dunes;
To those who strike you as pleasantly sweet;
To grace and glamour with delicate feet;
To those who are left with nothing to say;
To pleasantly pink, to presently grey;
To sizes at large, and those who stand tall;
To sizes that count as nothing at all;
You can not imagine the beauty divine,
The imperfectly pure you leave trailing behind.
You can not imagine what truth can unfold
With beauty that’s deeper than one can behold.

I asked her, in her tiny bed
While covering her toes,
If any lasting words, unsaid,
Would carry out in oath.

Her wrinkled nose in painful pose,
She turned to face my own.
A dainty little folded note,
She placed into my hold.

But as her breath kept dry, she died,
No subtlety shone through;
Nothing left to recollect,
No substance but the truth.

Behind me not a word was drawn
But in this lasting reach.
With hesitation come and gone
I so began to read:

“Dry your eyes and with your fingers
Wrap my body, soft and limber,
Or Release my ashes before the winter
(Scatter them in clay).”

I asked her, from her tiny lips,
The need to be alone,
If any lasting words, unsaid,
Would carry out in oath.

Her gentle eyes, in pity, smiled;
She turned and gestured no.
And followed still, with all her will
She forced at me a note.

But when no words gave birth, she died;
No sunny days shone through.
Nothing left but to repent,
No substance like the truth.

Behind me, with the curtains drawn,
I felt the teardrops bleed.
With hesitation come and gone
I so began to read:

“When Spring comes thaw, come with your two hands,
Plant lilies, daisies, roses and
Placed in the earth they’ll form to stand,
To feed me sun and rain.”

Cranberries and Blissfulness
Pouting baby butter lips
‘Round the corner Edward trips
With tattered knees to bare

Bless the button, sew the stitch
Clean your ears behind the itch
Find a chair to reach the switch
An inch or two to spare

To “the memory box”,
Where you gather your thoughts,
Here’s to the stories you’ve saved…

To the joys that you’ve shared,
To the hearts that you wear,
Here’s to the lives that you’ve changed…

To know that you’re blessed,
Even though they may rest,
Here’s to the love that you gave…

To the strong who have lost,
To have loved at no cost,
Here’s to the memories made…

Dear shady, short reaction—
Be back in 5.

Meanwhile, with a particularly [cautious], [foolish], [naughty] grin,
I let you in.

Always before
I gave a kiss
You stole a look
And it was peculiar
To watch
From above
As though I had no clue
But always a chance

Frozen figures found fixated;
Focusing forward, feeling flustered.
Fellow followers frequently freeze.
Furiously falling frosted flowers force forth.

Frustrated, failing forecasts fade.
“Fine fiasco!” finds fitting.

Two hearts
Inside a bubble;
Rain

Two eyes see
Truth & Trust

Two hands
Entwined together;
Framed

Two beings
Love & Lust