last night i dreamed a brown bear wandered in my room and grabbed something off the side table and just wandered out again

i assumed the kids had just got another pet

but then you said

I had not shaved in weeks, get very Grizzly like, and your door was unlocked, so?

so, maybe it was that old story
Goldilocks in reverse
but i don't think you were really after my porridge

In Florida sometimes it rains so hard
that you believe that it can't possibly stop,
that it will just rain and rain forever.

Sometimes I'd wake to a storm late at night,
and I'd sit out on the porch.

You could smell the lightning, and the coolness of the storm would
make your hair stand;
I'd feel so alive.

Some nights I'd go out, and my father
would be sitting on the porch already.
Lost in the storm
or maybe
called to it.
We wouldn't talk,
but we'd be lost together
in the rain and thunder.

Sometimes I wonder what of him
is left in me.
I am not sure
if I am more afraid of there being
very little
or of there being a great deal,
but when it rains
I think about him on that porch;

And still I dream of stepping back into yesterday
Where time flowed so freely golden with serenity
We would sit in pine scented grove and sip lemonade
Our talk tranquil as sun dappled creek murmuring in quiet wood
Never arguing or complaining but flooded with blissful reverie
A time bygone and peaceful, learning to know each other again
Listening to the background symphony of cicadas and katydids
Poignantly nostalgic with yearnings of bygone days
Watching velvety dusk deepen into shades of whispering night
Relishing each breeze laden with moss and murmuring pine
Anticipating the dawn awakened by drowsy robins and wood thrush
Skies east to west stained with strawberry hues and dreams renewed
And still I shall dream on

**~Hilda~

These words...
They traverse the fine line between earth and sky.
They dwell not, surface-deep in the dirt.
They be haloed not, as the chorus of heaven.

They're just murmurs that swim intangible.
Like reticulated wisps of smoke.
Incapable of materialising...
Or take definite forms on their own.

They only await to be carefully selected,
rearranged and harnessed into a jar...
Before being sealed infinite with a title.

Be quiet and still...
For you will hear them.
Milling and floating in the silence
that exists between your heartbeats.

Listen close...
For they are fragments of you
and the universe.
They're thoughts and feelings that come awake
as you slumber.

Awaiting to be selected...
Awaiting to be rearranged...
Awaiting to be harnessed...

By you,
the conduit with a pen.

Carrying a lamp;
seeking other wanderers
lost in quests for truth.

Your skin is my sky
That contains all the stars
Your arms are a magnet
That don't let me go far

Your hair are the dark
That are my night
Your embrace is my sigh
That holds me so tight

Your lips are my water
That is so pure
Your kiss is my medicine
That have my wounds cure

Your mouth have my words
That become my rhyme
Your body is my space
That makes me forget time

Your fingers are my flowers
That are laid in your hand's park
Your neck is my canvas
That contains my bite's mark

Your eyes are my moons
That shine so bright
Your smile is my sun
That gives everything light

Come my little sunshine
Come a little close
Come my little sunshine
I just want to know your name

I am walking
Staring you at the path
I am looking down
Feeling a little shy

I stare at the sun
Stunning reflection of you
I am looking up
Feeling a little high

The road is so busy
Each chasing their own thoughts
Catch you at the vacuum
Just escape with me

he sits all alone
in a smoky dusty bar
in a twilight zone of his own
he counts the neon stars

he isn't anywhere
and he isn't going anywhere

he sits by himself
as another day passes
like the bottles on the shelf
and the empty glasses