I know who you are
I see through your skin
the curious child home alone
oh how you’ve grown
not much has changed my friend

Ya I know…
I know where you’ve been…

No one comes late
it’s merely pure fate
many have staked their claim
spiritually trekking
brain heart connecting
coherent in the creativity game

I remember in her eyes the color of Christmas day
and the taste of melted butter in the early morning sun
The cadence of her voice, the undertone sounds
of her silences,  it was long ago

She was a matriarchal mountain of energy back in days
when her hair was colored red and her cheeks pummeled pink
Decadent cakes for Christ's birthday accompanied by her own
we ate cake with eyes aglow

Then in the eve of midnight, we unwrapped
secrets that were handed down from family tree to family tree
prepping our dreams we slept without the know
that Christmases of future would hold no mistletoe

I remember her eyes two melting Chocolates,  
and the sound of her laughter was like rippled layers of agate.

These days
I don’t feel like writing
What I feel about
The feeling itself escapes my thoughts
But life has its say, makes you sway
In every way
Sometimes
It’s more than the sun and twinkling stars
And pearly moon’s glow  
Beyond the words the words have other places to go