A burning light has embedded itself into your steady heart.
It glows off your milky skin and brightens up your smile.
It twinkles out your eyes like specks of stardust.
And illuminates your profile.
It puts a bounce to your step and crinkles by your eyes.
And it seems to brush it's glorious glow to each passerby.
One day you were asked, "Why does your eyes hold the sunrise?"
And you spoke with a million rays of light as you replied,
"The world has gotten darker like midnight without stars.
As each and everyone of you demoralize yourself.
So, because I see my worth, a moon you think that I've become.
When really I'm just a star that knows within is where my worth's from."

In the library,
the woman walks,
cane in hand,
bundled in a red coat,
green scarf over her shoulders,
her husband beside her,
in his slate coat and cap,
a checkered scarf
tied at his neck.
She pushes her white hair off
her forehead and peers up
at the paintings on the wall,
splotched and messy and bright,
the work of elementary students.
Paused at the paintings
they think of times when
they were that young too,
under the open sky--
her leaving clothes on the line
him chasing his dog back home.
They didn’t know each other then,
or maybe they did.
The details slip away
like summer into fall.
It doesn’t matter now,
but there was a time when she
held his hand on their walks
instead of a cane.
Oh, the watercolors
look like
ones Dan and Janie made,
Oh Dan,
he’d said he’d call,
or did Janie?
They can’t remember and think
of disintegrating paper
and blue drips on the table.
Instead, they finish their stroll
and both agree--
Lovely, wasn’t it?

There's a hum, a whisper, a note in your name.
A noise only heard at the quiet hour of 3:00 a.m.
When the sun has long been asleep in my world.
And your name is able to slip past my well constructed dam.
It arises when no one can hear my heart prattle.
A small touch of air along my already chilled skin.
I close my eyes in this mortal peace and listen.
As your name strums in my head like a violin.
Just for these few silent moments,
I let myself imagine an unrealistic thought.
When your name can pass my worried lips,
And I suddenly become more to you than just an afterthought.