Green grass,
the scent and colors of wildflowers,
and on the face, a smile that remembers springtimes
while the sun gently caresses them
and bathes them in its warmth.

White daisies
dance proudly in the breeze
as if to say:
we are happy just as we are,
and need nothing more.

Summer’s heat weaves its fingers
and adds a shade of yellow
to the canvas of beautiful plants,
excessive and merciless,
while they beg for the last drops of rain.

Something has grown quiet.
Looking at those once-lovely blades of grass
I now see
an invisible thread that binds us
in the whirlpool of memories.
At times, a weary smile appears,
accompanied by restless longing.

Time is a River

Time is a river,
It ages, rages
Racing and chasing
Changing, remaining
When everything else disappears.

Time is a river,
It flows, it knows
Exactly where the hidden hide
It finds and guides
Lost souls it
Found me.

Time is a river
It heals it reveals
The hurt the worst
Of the demons and heeds
No one, no plan
Every span of life
It sees it feels
It waits for no one, no plan.

Time is a river
It runs or it races
Do we fight it or
Does it fight us?
For control or for love
Through the sand through the mud
Through the minds
Of the weak of the strong
It critiques, never wrong.

Time is a river
Forever and never
Does it stop?
It may slow down or run faster
Though every disaster
Celebrations, devastations
Heartache and joy
But it always runs.
Time is a river.

The dirt still knows you and me as it squirms under our toes, and the old bells up the steeple of the forgotten chapels resting behind the hills sing tarnished songs of friends we loved and lost.

Ancient rivers, our hide away, under our confidante, the shifting sky, our secrets lingering there still with faithful boulders that cushioned us.  

We were arms that cradled each other while we set to walk on a wire stretching from our innocence to our dreams against the gusting wind and blowing doubt.

At times we made it and saw storms retreat and run for cover, and other times we smile bruised and wounded grateful for the lessons we have learned.

Down by the river, where the world is hushed, and shadows draw sharp breaths and bite down ******* us with their gaze, you'll find me nailed to time awaiting your return before the dusk descends, I pray.

Make haste, find your way back to the place we’ve seen eternity, and where tomorrow talks to us. Our refuge where promises hang their eyes on us and spread their arms wide. There, we are orphans with no yesterdays. There where our hearts cut through tears. With our hands out we could
dream without end.

If you don’t find us there, friends lost in me, if yours knees still could, feel the wind, it’s still dappled with memories.

Today I met someone I knew before.
We talked for a while, shared memories and more.
Then I realized, we can only meet the same person once,
For experience asks, and change is our response.

Static we can't be, unless life's flame
Is snuffed out, and we're just a name.
In every encounter, new experiences we obtain;
Our paths have shifted, though echoes remain.

Time's gentle passage had left its mark,
On hearts once familiar, now slightly stark.
Contrast of past and present, like a shifting dream,
Each conversation weaves new threads in the seam.

After our meeting, I closed my eyes,
Remembering what once was, under the skies.
In quiet reflection, I found a trace
Of the past intertwined with the present’s embrace.

BELL

Sound spreads like a cold splash
trembling with high connections.
The exuberant voice of the bell
shatters the hush of air.

Great clouds seem to echo,
startling dreamers, breaking
the deep tone of somber thoughts.

There is a wondering at sound,
ringing out the morning mist
or the last remains of day.

There is a coloring of time,
bulging outwards like a
courier with urgent news.

Why, bell, do you remind us
of the passing hours when
mind, listening to a long-lost
song, only wishes to travel
backwards.