I am a mystery
A complete and udder mess that takes time away from getting "perfect"
I am pure of heart
if I can find it
I am the dead of night that makes you appreciate the daylight
I am fright
I strike fear into the people who think normal is a good thing
And if one day lighting decides to strike me
I am the art that it leaves in the grass
I am a match that will never burn out
And some may say
That I'm​ crazy

Ever so changing like a rhyme
              Color
                    Never
                           Bound

Falling down one at a time
              Going
                    Sinking
                           Ground

Shivering alone, not really seen
              Cold
                    Lonely
                           Freezing

Waiting for what cannot be foreseen
              Counting
                    Faith
                           Believing

Distant thunder calls for rain
              Dripping
                    Dropping
                           Crying

Inside feeling nothing but pain
              Never
                    Stop
                           Trying

As the seasons change, so does the weather
               Spring
                     Summer
                            Fall

Love keeps all things together
               Emotions
                     Conquer
                             *All

I am thinking of the dead
who are still with us
on their way in the rain
to meet lovers or brothers
and my sadness waves back
like grain in the fields
of lost summers and summers
before that, fireflies in the dark
still young and beautiful
like starry nights, but for them
there is no moon, and for us
the same news we do not receive.

My daughter says
every tree has a soul.
Some are good, some are bad.
But always, a soul.
My daughter is young enough
to know these things.

My daughter says also
some trees have a spirit.
(But only the good trees.)
People, too.
She is old enough
to say these things.

Guided by spirit, we can grow
from the crack in a boulder.
We can lift sidewalks.
We bend and yet are strong.
We flower, we bear fruit, we give seed.
We are where the raccoon sleeps,
the hawk nests, the monkeys play.

Without the spirit we twist,
we wither, we break.
With the spirit our roots take hold.
My daughter knows. So young, so old.

I could replace you anytime
Grab someone else and call them “mine”
But I can never forget you
It’s the hardest thing to do

Replacing is easier than forgetting
I can replace an old pen with a new one
But I will never forget the poems I’ve written with it

I can replace you with someone new
I can meet hundreds of new people within these 365 days
But I will never forget the stories I’ve woven with you

So don’t tell me to find someone new
I don’t want anything new
I don’t want to replace or forget
I only want you