A warm summer morning
Bright light to cover a different mourning
The lost treasure of fresh air
Caring thoughts being placed elsewhere
A simple glance through a pane of glass
Revealing what she could not surpass
Children running amongst the street
Echoes of laughter becoming bittersweet
A turn of the head reveals a different picture
The remaining heir alone, seeking closure
Guilt replaces the overwhelming sorrow
Lost in the emptiness of tomorrow
Rising to her feet, she struggles
Body held down by a thousand anvils
She passes by the small child
Wishing she had smiled
Exiting the room, she enters another
Nothing but a mindless drifter
Despite her fear, she opens a door
But she doesn’t recognize it anymore
She wonders why the mirror is still here
Broken and insincere
The shatters stained with scarlet
The memory like a bullet
A sob escapes her lips
She leaves with even more hardships
Her last child sits at the table
Not fully understanding the fable
She wants to look away
Away from the child she’s led astray
But she’s done that long enough
She can no longer hold up the bluff
She spots a useful memory
Reaching for them anxiously
Two simple fruits
Two beautiful tributes
She shows her six-year-old son
A small smile, she’s won
They begin their work
Creating an edible artwork
It’s as if life has broken out into song
It had been far too long
Sweet laughter emanates through the air
Joy replacing the need for despair
Proving that all it takes for happiness to chime
Is something as simple as lemons and limes

I feel like lemons and limes
Sprinkled in sugar
The sour, covered
Soaking in the sweet salt
To become tangy

Maybe I’ll become a peach
Sugary to the pit
Dipped in honey
And brown sugar
Finally mature

I wrote you once
                 twice
                thrice

      But no more
              for you
        will I again

I loved you once
                 twice
          and thrice

But not anymore
              for you
            this time

The was one little lime
It was a race against time
Who could first reach it
Before we did quit
If it is not mine it's slime

Underwater light faceted
in the enormous aquamarine
set in bronzed stones.
A pale green mist lifts from the pool
follows the lantern lit pathways
back to the dark and shady places
edging to the olive grove
and the blackness
of the wych elms
and the limes
enclosing the garden
like impenetrable walls.

Here, on a very warm night
with a honeysuckle, jasmine breeze
heady, rich and almost liquid
You can stand on the sun-filled stones
stretch and hold
the heart-breaking sweetness
of the night.