On the morning he left
before he took that half a turn into the street
he said to her that strength is measured
not in the unyielding clasp
but in all set free

Mindful of her fragility
he knew she drew from a deep well
her life appearing strong
yet his advise could be wrong

and yet she could not dwell
in any words he left with her;
a keepsake
a token promising
he'd count the steps he took upon return

for a promise made when one is leaving
is hard to believe
as we've all heard them before
no words ever spoken nor written
can touch trust at this level
until his return has come to fruition
and he comes back home

and so she followed his steps
as far as their sound would take her
setting him free
so their embrace could live
unbroken, eternally

A collaboration with Mark Cleavenger. Thank you for the honor Mark.

Thank You HP for the gesture
and compliment of the Daily

To each of you,
I am grateful for
your eyes, your time
your words nourish, console
and encourage the aspiring writer in me

I am grateful for your thoughts
and heart in comments;
jewels encrusted in the mind
beats in my writer's heart

Your interpretation of my work
opens the world; your work inspires me, you inspire me

You are energy
you are a gift and I am humbled
to be in your company

The other day
I happened to see a friend
who had passed away.
It was not until I saw him
had I realized,
I no longer cared for him.
I had been busy living
and after all these years
he was still the same.
How does one explain
to a dead friend
that people change?