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Dianali 2d
I’d love a cheat day
In my calendar—
Let my years-patched dignity,
For a single day,
be torn again.

I wish I could tell you
I wrote a poem for you—
A cheesy gift
for your thirtieth—
I know.
I’ll go.

You are still breathing.
Yet I pin to my chest
A neat, felt
black ribbon—
To commemorate.
Dianali 3d
You hurt.
You will always do.
My favourite wound.

Every now and then,
I sprinkle salt on it—

And if It’s healing,
With bare hands
I rip it open
in my heart.

Keeping your memory alive
through this pain,
tearing me apart
Dianali 3d
What am I—
if not a seed
of a tree
of romantic branches,
Who taught those before me
How everyone and everything
Hums with dreaming and glee ?

Another generation passes;
a family heirloom handed to me—
Vintage, well-preserved:
rose-coloured, polarised glasses
Hopecore is in my veins :)
Dianali Jun 6
I’d like your taste to linger
A little longer on my lips—
Citrusy-bright,  caramel-rich acacia honey;
You fizz, umami.
  A hint of cashews— yes, I’m nuts for your being!
So sweet, sugary, cavity-worthy—Guilt-free.
A flavour I should let just fade out..
For the inevitable,
minty and cold reality
scheduled to rinse it
Everything delicious is temporary.
Dianali Jun 6
Q2
April.. you were a sweet reminder
of the joyous oath of spring—
Slowly but surely,
coaxed the cold to give in..
I have this theory:
Yours are the days
love nests to begin.
Call it cliché, that’s the way it must be
Scented your days are with blossom;
Roses and hope in bloom and in glee!

My, my, May!
you were so good to me!
You may as well be
my favourite of the three!
Your daylight hugs feel so sincere;
Quick-witted, heart-warmth breeze;
Birdsongs are echoes of
Family laughs and cheers—
May, please— I’m on my knees!
Like a lover that’s bright,
And made just for me—
The rest of the year I’ll be craving your heat!

A little dramatic,
But June, don’t despair!
Handle your grace
and sun-varnished grass trace,
Don’t be shy—bring lilac skies;
Let’s walk in warm sand,
I’ve got you by the hand.
No doubt at all, but pure delight,
You are already opening
beautifully right !
Dianali Jun 6
A great-great granddaughter
Is tracing our family tree.
She thinks she’s got my hair.
Sunday giggles, pointing kindred,
Mapping stories.
Her mother remembers you fondly,
and insists she has your wit.

Delusional,

I think.


(At least she got that loud laugh from me)

daydreaming again:
She is just like me


No she ain't got it.
Nor your charmer silver tongue.

Nope.

Those talents must be lying

in some branches

of some other future kid’s

family tree.
And it branches
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