Above the sea,
With clouds slipping,
The old moon runs
All this ocean is,
Glass and dream
Is all mirror, I face
Reflections of loss
And promise unknown,
Anxious, clear emptiness,
The peace of held sorrows
Of a lone soul floating out,
Tossed in the blood tides
Of dashing hope, blurry,
Bane dream made reals,
In this picture, slow runs,
Of ocean moods, my being,
Two moons anchored by the sea.

A few weeks ago I was given flowers.
Pink, yellow, white and a touch of purple all in a pretty vase.
On my dresser they sat and everyday I saw them.
As time went by they started to turn brown.
They curled in on themselves like a baby in the womb
And soon after that they began to fall,
just like leaves on an October night.
A few of the flowers still remained beautiful,
they still had that sweet smell.
I picked their petals and saved their beauty.
I pressed them in a book to  preserve their looks
These petals sat on my dresser,
day after day.
Their color faded, like an artists painting gone wrong.
what used to be beautiful became nothing more than a mess,
I just wanted to save the beauty.
The beauty of the first kiss, the first love, that first time,
the feeling I wanted to save.
But there have been more kisses, another love, a new path.
And just as the flowers on my dresser died so sudden
my walls fell down, my heart opened up, my path changed.
Just yesterday I was outside with that new love
and I saw a flower growing in between the sidewalk cracks.
Beautiful, new, fighting for a chance.
It was there that I realized; beautiful things are not ours to take.
And if something wants to grow then it will find a way to grow.
All because a few weeks ago I was given flowers.