language, silent looks
the listening ear
imagination, fantasy
longing, need
one word set free
love, completion
the end of endings
spoken eternity.

remnants of autumn
prepare to be swept away --
godspeed little ones

Why is poetry dying
when we still have the gift?
If we still have water
then we still have a ship.
We can sail to the places
these words take us.
We are still shaken
by the words that make us.
Why should we let poetry die
when there is so much to explore?
If only people read it
and discovered more.

as time tumbles by
eroding its rocky bed
of eternity
in the shallows
we create
pools of stillness
capturing handfuls
to refresh us

on cold January mornings
the pools ice-olate
into frozen moments
we sculpt into memories
until the reality
of springtime
puddles them
drip by drop
back into the current

In the life of tears and laughter
What is left to see?
It may seem like this life
Entire entity is empty.

In the bend of river life
The memories are hidden
Never let to catch, never let to see
There is no limit to its perimeter.

So on the pages of life
Let's all write them down
All the makers of all events
And, become a mute witness.

You speak to my heart,
In languages I never knew
Fingertips like velvet,
Tracing worlds into my skin
One touch set ablaze,
My weary soul
Oh what a solace,
To spend a lifetime searching for freedom
To find that freedom exists,
Within the confines of the smallest hands
And you… The unsayer of gray
You, speaker of colors and magic
The calm after the storm,
Promising the breath of a new morning
Safety found in a quiet smile,
A gentle squeeze
Eloquently you conduct harmonies,
Across my body
Plucking my every heart string,
A resonance warm and welcome
You speak to my heart,
In languages I never knew