it rained
when you first told me you loved me
silent teardrops running down a windowsill
gental floods that carry what matters

it rained
as we sat in silence in the car
the day we said goodbye at the airport
and i told you it wasn't the end

it rained
the last day i saw you
with your new lover
and the feeling of blood ozing out my boddy
the feeling of 'unreal'
the feeling of the day it rained

I am not rooted like a tree,
Yet, I too, cast shadows all around me.,
Sunbeams waltz  through my shade.
Within its chill I start to fade into ponder,
   Filled with a curious lust to wander.
Not in thoughts which  pressed pulp is written upon,
Or  with cuisines made from oiled  salads and hearts of Palm.
The sun’s ****** pushes me to uproot and go as I please,
    Each day’s truth, to follow this warmth and majesty.
Royal colored panoplies illuminate,
The sky’s wide open path on which it roams.
  Crossing borders at dawn,
Bringing to the world enlightenment’s pageantry.
   While most sleep thru the moon’s hidden release,
  Wind convinces the sea to rise,
Only to fall from the sky’s grip arbitrarily,
Quenching primal thirst to travel beyond one’s shores.
Gone from its known onto somewhere, change never ending.
  Anxiously, I stare, aware of the horizon’s beyond allure,
My prayer, for the same journeys to stop it’s pending.
  To be caressed and uplifted from the comforts of me,
Then scattered liberally back into the newness of myself.
                                                                                PFL

I wish, I’d  learned infinities’ cost.
Controlling the acts stemming from my fear of loss,
Social norms that create false identities,
My self~restraint and I have yet to exchange pleasantries.
~
Frost of my words taint the glass of your heart’s window pane.
While I ignore your deigned mein.
Bent conversation continues to escape my mouth,
Foreshadowing their  pending drought.
They just trickle off the tip of my tongue
Racing me to the end of sentences as if such, would keep the night young.
First to complete a thought; my acts so non~vatic.
Sorry does not permit this crime
The right to be committed time after time.
~
Time not to be precariously lost or surrendered unto pragmatics,
Every second wasted lay vulnerable to the peccant of plausibility,
Exhausted you crush them into pieces, justifiably,
  Underfoot as you walk away from me……      PFL

A dew drop embraces morn's warmth
high and mighty on the outer edge of a bough
how lonesome the sound of its release set forth
from a blade of grass.
willingly, into its next chance.

It is never too late or too soon,
It is when it is supposed to be.
Time a measure of what you cannot get back.
Yesterday’s moments have set,
Divine order rises with each tomorrow,
Deciding the length of a day’s hours  is not ours.
Yet, we count all we have,
In cadence scheduled by chimes,
Fear of not having enough.
Before it's too late,
Or its all gone.
Absent one’s hope,
Time is a punishment.
                                    PFL