Cascading
Flowing
Tiny Pools
Horrible storms
Droplets
In joy
In Sorrow
Not enough tissues
Linen lovely hankies
On his collar
In my hair
Everywhere
Tears

the nook of her back
elicits sensations in me
exhilarating;
greater than a drop of espresso
or crack,
I am alive with desire, free —

but will I step forth
and meet she?

He woke up practiced bass for the gig
Trying to stay motivated find inspiration
Learning to play with others collaborate
Hard to trust anyone sick of the lies
Writing down ideas ready to tell the story

Bury me
Neath an old oak tree
Where on a lower limb
You can tie a swing

And then when
You come to visit me
You can always swing
To the memories

Of the precious days
Playing in the park
I was your best friend then
Daddy‘s little girl

And when you feel a push
From the warm South breeze
You might just think the wind
But believe it’s me

If I am the mountain, then you are the shepherd
if you are the shepherd then I am the flock
if I am the flock then you are the mountain

we can part without a final glance and then follow one another until we are called to face each other in the morning

If you don't have a reason not to smile... Try smiling.