How many of us

Have people in our lives

Short breathed on concern

Long winded on advice

Who would rather flap the tongue

Than take the time to find

That the art of listening

Is painted with open mind

You fell in love with the way
the leaves fell from the tree's.
The way they were all beautiful,
as soon as they were leaf free.
They were bare and left vulnerable,
their branches like stiff fingers.
Looking as if trying to grasp,
their old life before winter.
You always loved the broken.
Or the ones that needed to be cared for.
And what you never seemed to have realized
was that those tree's were neither.
They didn't need your help.
For they already had a life goal.
To come back after winter,
So much stronger than before.
When you saw this you were disappointed.
And that's when I finally got it.
All this time it wasn't about fixing others,
But about stitching your own split.
You spent so long looking in others,
for a brokenness like yours.
Thinking that if you helped them fix it,
then maybe you could wipe your own tears.
But, darling, I'm here to tell you,
that your approach is all wrong.
You are actually like those bare trees.
For you've been whole all along.

When the sun shines everyday,
And the trees are glorious greens,
When the flowers are blooming,
And the birds sing every morning,

You know a thunderstorm is gonna hit.

I hope I never dance in a world
Where the sun doesn't say goodbye
By painting colors in the sky.
And my skin isn't my home.

I hope that I can forever feel
The ones I've loved
So our time doesn't feel rushed.
And I can see as far as my feet can take me.

I realize  that when you asked me to  feed your two calicos
while vacationing, I wasn’t given title to  pluck four large
tomatoes  from  your perfectly trained  vines.

The tomatoes were Christmas red, unbruised
and husky. It seemed criminal and unfair
to my palate not to devour them
by dusk the day I stole them;

in my shallow defense
both of your cats
repeatedly hissed
at me when fed.