her top was yellow;
the same as my socks.
i noted that in my mind as fate.

reluctant to argue with divine intervention,
i told her that yellow was my favourite colour,
not necessarily a lie, but rather a brand new truth.
she smiled, and told me she liked baby blue;

the colour of my shirt.

our first child was given a green blanket by an aunt.
purely coincidence, i thought, or maybe this really was fate.

it was my new favourite colour.

The green in the leaf dissolves once more
The skeleton concaves and pulls itself apart
Hidden in the tree is a forgotten name
Carved into me and burnt in the dark


The seasons change and come again
Life without bones to grind and shatter
As peace is rare, so unlike pain
Rain crashes down and each drop splatters


But


Once again the branches break
Given time, I will not grow
Like brittle frost, or tired men
A tree is dying in the snow


After all of this time
When the trees all fall
I will not be crying
No, not anymore

Yes,

At times she was the fierceness of a storm
but when need be
She could hold the tears of a generation
on her fingertips

and separate
love, from sadness,
pull pain, from dreams,

and sew them together

into a life.

Lay me down
On a bed
of headless roses,

So that the thorns
Will hold me tight,
and never let me go.

On stormy nights,
I only have to look at
your limitless eyes
To know that
the stars still exist.

For all of you
Who were born with cocoon hearts,
Breathe now
Or forever hold
Butterflies in your stomach.

It would be a waste of time
Trying to hold her within
The confines of a metaphor.