In the blossoming winds of life
we are scattered
within forms of silent time
On all those nights where love
Is more than flesh
that holds our will
the foundation we build
Is yours and mine

Defeat is a precarious lantern who's light
Is bitterly bright and unfair
Yet nothing
can spring from rivers
that I call mine
that could ever make me
forsake you,
go there

Discontent
will never be mine to hold
I know that you understand
These words I carve
From my heart
Because my spirit is at
Your command

You are the morning
that quenches my thirst
My fragrance
after the rain
How could I ever forget you
when these sighs
you have left
here in my heart
remain?

The wind moves over understanding,
enjoying its time away
from tears,
feels whole again.
Sleep, I am sure, sets sail
with a stranger,
breaks the mold
enveloping your pillow,
takes away pain.

Colors give you a taste of brightness
that eternity goes through
when it blushes
at its own progress.
While forever struggles
with patience
and touches upon fruit,
thought of undressed.

Cold water comes near,
turns round and round
graciousness,
extending the  waves
of grace’s touch.
Walking the halls
pressed against a smile
that says I am sorry,
no one notices
quite so much.

Long, long after our experiences
caress the light
we have given time,
they are unfolded,
carried away.
Insistence shatters
the mirror to nowhere,
sends winds of understanding,
my way.

Before you can feel the soft touch of poetry
and it can play a song for you,
look for the positive aspect in moonlit shadows.  
Stop and wonder
how a heart breaks then makes friends
who give of themselves
until they bleed out on the cold floors
of the world.

Do you find that time lays heavy on you
within dreams
where snow melts in pictures
of piercing eyes
that mail letters to the moon.
Or are you afraid to look out the window
and stop pretending
you are falling in love with being all alone
with just your heart and a slingshot?

What litters the path where your feet move
calling out to the sky
that there is no magic wish
staring at you
waiting for you to finish.
Does your breath catch in conversations
held with snowflakes
that spin and bow then fade away
leaving you to wonder
where you go
from here.

Has it come to the point
where you walk in the places
where white lies run through the stream of life?  
Does innocence struggle with colors
that make our eyes believe nothing is true
when something new becomes old
inside of winds that creep
and freeze like icicles.

Before you can feel the soft touch of poetry
and it can play a song for you,
you must have walked this path
I have described.  
Do not stand up and leave with your
thoughts racing,
climbing higher and higher,
lest you become one of those hearts
that bleed.

It started with a fire
built with young leaves
and the ink from my pen.
Whether it is your fault or my own,
our lives are intertwined
in the flame.
Still, the breath of our moon
carries a message
to us both;
never offer up the slightest wave
of shame.

Calling from the ground is the rain
that found the wind
that blew paper from my hands.
A wind that practiced
the religion of picking up pieces
of broken hearts
and throwing them back down,
only to kiss their cries
with a stampede
of what they cannot understand.

A well thought out plan started out
with a fire built
with young leaves
and the ink from my pen.
It is not your fault,
nor is it mine.
If we can we ever stop listening
to the winds
that kiss the cries of our broken hearts,
from the flame, we would come
unentwined.

New colors embrace the memory of life’s soil
while looking at promises
that rush through our veins.
A tune is heard from our hearts'
circling places in time
where our eyes become the surface
of our souls,
greeting what we see floating
on the winds
of change.

Clearly visible as separate bodies
held on a spun web
of gypsy invitation,
why then do we only remember
the perfect peace
of how our minds meet.  
You touch each breath I draw in
as if hunting down my despair
until it becomes as smoke
with leaving feet.

Before the stars were chiseled into an age
that held us captive,
sleep was where the light of the moon
played innocently.  
Father Fate swirls, renames himself
with each breath I take,
keeping time for the promises
of true love
that still sing out
to you and me.

Oh, to feel my breath
inside of what
has not been touched in years
by the breezes I find,
as if meant
to be
my air.
After the sunset fades,
I cannot express
how it feels to have
your heart broken in two
and for days hear a song
that still loves you
in the morning.

Flying straight through the tinted glass
I hold on tight
to the place I know
is standing in the distance.
In search of one,
whose notions move into shadows
loyal to an army of water
that sits backs and looks at every word
as if
it is an ocean
of a single heartbeat.

I sing this song in my heart
with my eyes closed,
never bitter,
but you know that.
I hold no shame of the memories
held dear,
their touch whispers
like a smear of warm sun
promising not to forget
what it searches for.
Smiling into eternity’s cup,
I begin to write.

I write of dancing in the windows
where the sun and moon
are uninhibited
as they drink from the air
of unmeasured words.
A place where the only thing I wish for
is a glimpse of flowers
that will push the thoughts of waiting
for my heart to break
in two
….away.

When I am not with you,
the earth is still warm
from hours that are seen no more.
I can feel the rhythm of yesterday
asking questions
when everything collects on the currents
of our own shadows.

I cast last night among the hills
where we were young and thoughtless
peered above the words
Standing
before my eyes.
Where butterflies lived inside a song
Waiting
for the world to sing.

Looking to tell a story
somehow different
from any
ever written down,
I began unlocking the mysteries of life.
I found that the beauty
of growing old
had kept its secrets well,
from my ears.

In the middle of the wonder
there must surely
lay a seed of hope in the meadows
where you and I saw fireflies
in the still of night.
Perhaps there,
we can still hear the echo
of its footsteps.

Eternity wanders through my mind
seeking praise
while the breath of truth
shows the world its strong arms.
Life awakens
to close the door on lessons learned
and yet, the earth
is still warm.