there is something to
picking up my father's old guitar
and feeling it fit perfectly in my hands,
responding to my touch
the way it once did for him,
and playing chords to a song everyone knows,
but having it turn out somehow different,
my style and voice,
mingling with the echo of my father's,
to take someone else's words and music
and give them a new life.

she said she doesn't see perfection in my eyes,
or a love story that might last for all time,
but someone who's been through what she has,
someone who seeks to understand.

safety, trust, and fun,
kindness, passion, and love -
those are what she looks for,
and prays i see them too.

prayers are answered,
dreams are made,
in this world where home is found
in another's eyes
another's arms,
another's breath,
another's heartbeat,
another's love.

some mornings
i see the sweeper-man,
doing his job quietly,
picking up the dirt the rains left behind.
and i am reminded of the simple truth:
there is a nobility in working,
in doing a task that must be done
but no one wants to do.
nobody says, 'thank-you' to him,
nobody stops to consider how the path they use
has been cleared by a man simply doing his job,
but he continues on,
sweeping away the dirt the rains left behind.

so many memories,
instantly made in a short time
that i will hold with me forever-
the raindrop that landed on your glasses,
a giggle that lilted on the air,
or a look as your eyes gazed into mine-
searching for the answers you longed to see.
memories made,
as though looking backwards,
they felt like they were always there,
that we have lived this before,
and once again have searched each other out.
and i soak up every new moment,
looking forward to each, and fondly at it as it passes,
winking,
from moment to memory,
weaving a new tapestry to tell a new story.

i can't be there to celebrate you,
to hold your hand and give a hug,
or watch you blow out the candles on your cake,
and crawl in bed with you at the end of the day,
but my thoughts today are about you,
seeing your smile,
and bright eyes that shine when i call you "beautiful"
and the way your body moves with mine
as we dance gently to music only we can hear,
and the lightness of the moment makes hearts sing
and angels rejoice.
that is my wish for you this day,
and though the miles keep us apart,
this joy of living pulls us together.

cherry blossoms,
small and fragile,
merely a part in a grand design,
made permanent by hands and chisel,
pale maple chosen to bring life.
each one, imperfect,
each unique,
each its own sovereign -
and together forming peaceful beauty.
harmony with the darkly stained oak,
little flowers to lend their softness and beauty
to a hard surface.

there is shouting in the street tonight,
and crying in the home,
someone's son is lying bleeding,
his body broken,
an inspiration to rage,
or to answer a call
to recognize in one another
ourselves.