Love a girl who writes,
          and live her many lives;
          you have yet to find her,
          beneath her words of guise.

Kiss her blue inked fingers,
          forgive the pens they marked.
          The stain of your lips upon her—
          the one she can't discard

Forget her tattered memories,
           or the pages others took;
           you are her ever after—
           the hero of her book.

the world is waking up
to a new light
a rejuvenating warmth
spring
that perfect temperate time
without the searing heat of summer
and winters frigid climes
a beautiful renaissance in nature
green buds sprout from tips of trees
15 years before
your gentle breezes
and light, warm air
cradle me
as I come into the world