Thinking of those days
That once were happy and bright
So sad—they are gone...

-M.H.-

Nights, we take the boat out
paddle our way green through water
swum by inlet waves, full moon apace
shadowy, ancient tribal faced
lose all trace of the shore, black
but for phosphorescence
glowing, trailing from the oars
a haunting ghostly art
green and breathing, disappearing
back into darkness, swallowed
by black water, by night
strange this death,
this rebirth and breath
felt in each and every moment.

Tonight
a million flowers loom
clouds of gypsophila bloom
at my window and beyond
the jasmine vines, they crawl
saturate and scent my paper walls
these night lilies, only a dalliance
that blooms and fades
your hands soft upon my legs
we are drunk from dulcet wine
sung from the moon that dips
caress of your reddened lips
as we travel this world
lilting softly slow.

This house, it does not speak of me
I am unknown to these adobe walls
these cool clay floors
I press my feet against
wanderlust, I dance
through desert nights I roam
these sands to drink the moon
and follow stars toward home.
I travel endless nights
painted blue with black
wait for sunlight
once again to warm my room.
Nights I dream to be
in wild fields
with you.