We are an echo of our past
Like an empty hanger in the closet
All bare and cold
Memory serves as the foundation to something beautiful
As long as those shoulders
Bare something new.
And our closet doesn’t stay empty but rather collects a rainbow of hues.

We are glittering dust on the face of time
Swept up and scattered
Like jewels glinting in the ether
An exhale of decades past
Burning up quicker with age
Shining brightly for a moment
A brilliance tempered in rage

Home is where cat hair clings to clothes
The shelves smell like old books
None of the chairs match
Sunlight warms furred and floored bellies
And coffee is a drink for all hours of the day
Where a morning chatter comes from more than lips but whispered snout
A day spent reading in a shady hammock spot
Bare feet and socks that don’t always match
The place I always loose my keys
And burst into song when the whim is pleased
Up till two on an adventure strike
Sleeping till three to recharge
Tumbling and writing to feed the starving muse
Remembering to do the dishes while not really wanting too
It isn’t always perfect
And accidents happen more often than not
Perfectly Imperfect
Home
All the best are.

Bristling branches brush the brazen boldness of summer kissed flesh
Scratching their stories across warm leather and black skin
Kissing the sun with its brilliant caricature smiling from the canvas of hair, freckled flesh and happiness
The winding wind pulling in the playful tangle of curled hair
Where cheeks blushed under exertion
Huffing breath like a prayer
The call too great
Like a sudden pain in the soul
The sound the rush the feeling of touching something that was real
Stays real even after the moment is gone
Tickling hairs of grass meet curious hands walking the hurried gate down into the rocky trail bed
Feet teetering on unstable rock-stone-steps
Tapping out the excited rhythm of her heart
In the meadow on the trail in between the trees
She was truly beautiful
A vision of free.

I can see the world in your eyes
Behind those thick frames is wonder
Imagination
Reality becoming something magical and at the same time all together real
Tangible
Magical
Beautiful in ways that others can no longer see
You child are something special
Something unique

I can taste what life should be from the way you smile
Fresh
Wild
Glinting in the sunlight like dew on bright flowers face
Oh you are the brilliant
Bright in the height of day

Deeper than the deepest
More vibrant than the colors of the brightest star
Just being who you are
I celebrate all that is you

Yes you
There Poet
I'm talking to you.

Marley once said that music could heal the soul
Those words I am not likely to rebute
For music moves
It speaks, and motivates
A landslide of symbolic aspirations
In the right place and time
Music can do more in one moment
Than medicine can in days.