Breathe in the stars each night
Like fireflies
To give my heart the company it needs
To beat and with pattered wings flee

She gives the gift of love,
From where all poetry springs,
And of life,
The joy and the dispair,
That it brings.

The eternal essence of her,
This beautiful paradox,
Pretty flower,
That on a whim,
Could either crush or empower,
The fragile essence,
Of him.

The sweetest of tears,
Golden girl cries,
As poems and songs,
Cascade from her eye's,
To honeycomb seas,
And coppertone skies.

Your heart was never there,
in every moment we shared.
I packed my suitcase full of sparks
and you called me a fool.
I always said I could find,
the sunniest meadow,
that always shined.
I guess I had the wilder mind.

I am late for nothing.
Staring into the robin's egg sky,
watching my breath tumbling
to cloud about me.
There is a bus coming.

The light is fading.
Growing numb about the edges,
of frosted steel railings
and heavy molten hedges.
There is a bus approaching.

Fiery tree before me,
swallow the wintry sunset
as a fading reddish memory.
In similar shades, I know we met,
many times, and we were happy.

It is only a rock
floating lifeless
around the earth;

cold and hard,

desolate and bare.

Yet,
with no fire of its own,
it outshines every star.

And as dawn began to break
It was that little piece of you
on the tip of my tongue, knowing
the coffee couldn’t have tasted
better