our lips will never meet
nor our fingers intertwine
and so bless my dreams
for indulging what's not mine

When it rains, the sky blue-black
When scars re-open
When eyes are wet
You are a friend
You are the secret garden
I have not discovered in full summer
I wish rain to fall on your soil only to make you grow
I hope clouds only exist to shade you from scorching suns
And when we bleed may we share the hurt
And when we laugh
I know we are women
Girls, sisters,
And are enough.

She kept bed-side by me all along,
Her prayer like a flower behind my ear,
Asleep, I think I hear the petals fall.

I don't want to be a knight in shining armour.
There's dignity in scars and old leather,
The badges of a long campaign.
We are wrinkled, yes, and sunburned,
Full of crows-feet and lines.
These are trophies, my friend.
Wear them with pride.
Our grey hairs emerged in our twenties.
Why? Because we fought!
We still fight the good fight.
Walk tall with your notches and your rust!
This grey is the grey of battle-steel,
The burnish of a well-used blade.
Your life is a tale worth telling, my friend.
Please, do not think you're not beautiful.

When we pass as one
our shadows ought to dance
among the stars
while the moon
illuminates our way
a groovy waltz by Strauss
for us to savor, it may
reach out, embrace me up here
where the thin air
is perfumed
as you, my dear

I ride the waves of sorrow
to join eternal bliss
I await a kindly person
to plant a gentle kiss