If the rain could weave your touch into mine,
I'd let it drench me, time after time.
Perhaps in a place where clocks don't turn,
You’d find me waiting, a love unlearned.

Feel me gently
When I lay beside you
Touch me softly
When I look at you
How lucky to stumble upon each other
How lucky to call this moment mine
When you lay your head on my chest
When I get to ruffle your hair
When we cuddle until we fall asleep
Let my hands guide themselves to you
Let me hold you, pull you in, hug you, ill never let go
I want to show you the gentlest of loves

Lilac hush
earth, half-waking,
baroque birdsong.

Moss curls ,
dew beads on nettle’s tongue
small, glassy prayers.

wind
silk-handed seamstress
stitches light into every leaf,
veiling the world
breath and bloom.

Bones of old trees cradle the sun’s milk,
wildflowers nestle in their ribs
what dies here, lives softer.

river, translucent and slow,
spills silver veins , the skin of the valley
a quiet pulse beneath the green.

Somewhere between sky and soil,
we become the silence
lungs folding into pollen-laden air,
fingertips brushing the hem of forever.

Nothing belongs.
Nothing is apart.

In the meantime,
the world remakes itself
petal by petal, wing by wing
and we, fragile passengers,
are simply learning how to listen.

Music brings this chilling feeling.
I talk alone to my white ceiling.
Their invasion feels like silent stealing.
I crack and break as my walls keep peeling.
Is this sensation truly healing?

The warmth of summer's first kiss?
Bliss,

is the absence of winter’s cold fist.
Resist,

undermining your power,
flower.

Rejoice in spring's free breeze.
Freeze,

and enjoy this moment’s endeavor,
forever.