Every purest element in life reminds me of you
cause I know you feel the magic too
The moon, stars, warmth of a gentle sun
sound of the wind, trees
those special spots in the forest where we run.

L.C.

I love how every month has different little poems!
Today - someone lived and wrote, wept and bled.
In June a great artist had something to say,
and now it's engraved into history for those with eyes to see.
In July it happens again. And it will happen in August too!
So July, hold me under your warmth - cradle me.
I am being strong, but I just need a break.
Take my hand into the sun's heat -
show me I can be exposed
without being burned!

C.M. 1/7/25

icarus 6.29.25 (4:00 pm / 16:00)
i, too
want to fly so close to the sun
that i become ashes
and when i am dead
then i will smile and laugh

and i will be happy

as i drift
as dust
into s p a c e

The heat of midday has passed
giving way to a cool evening breeze.
The Sun is slowly falling into the horizon
and its beams cast lengthening shadows.

Other than the gentle rustling of the trees,
as the wind breathes over the leaves,
the only sounds are the trilling of insects
and the glorious birdsong
sharing the warmth of a summer’s eve.

We sit in silence,
letting the warm rays caress us,
basking in the tranquility of the scene.

I feel my eyes growing heavy
as a calmness envelops me
and a sense of joy
washes away my cares.

You whisper,“Look!”
and opening my eyes
I catch my breath as I view the sky
turning vibrant orange and red
as the Sun touches that distant horizon.

Oh, my sweet
summer child,
with your golden smile
and that glimmer in your eyes.

I admire you,
maybe even envy
your blinding sun,
that hurts my tired eyes.

Your sun-kissed
picture frame face
exudes such joviality
but at a pace

With undulating curls
that unfurl around
your shimmering face,
yet still hold place.

How does it feel
to be God’s favorite?
I wonder,
how you smile with such grace.

Your laugh,
my sigh,
melt away
in the citrus and heat.
The sun beats down
on my back
in undulating waves.
I drink it in,
but it leaves an aftertaste—
unnervingly inevitable.
Soon it’ll be over.
It won’t last…
I know.

But before I leave,
I want to waste
my last days
getting lost
in the haze
of your sun-kissed
summer face

sunlight spills
across her face,
the warm glow seeping
through the curtains
quietly,
while she sleeps --
like the morning
is in love with her too.

her lashes catch
the warm sun,
like she's dreaming
in golden.
i stay still,
quiet,
gentle --
not because i might wake her,
but because i don't want
to break
the moment.

As the last of the flowers have withered,
And the guests have washed their clothes,
The cemetery has new bodies to entomb,
I still feel your presence very close.

For every waking morning without you on our side,
Demands a tough facade for every new dawn,
With responsibilities piling our plates,
I still hear your voice guiding us on.

At times where people have seem to forget,
And your space at the table has been quietly replaced,
Things and clothes packed neatly into boxes,
I still recall the warmth of your embrace.

For the world that we know will continue to revolve,
With the sun, the moon, and its skies ever so blue,
Your memory lives on in every piece of me;
I will choose to remember every last piece of you.