Hidden garden,
owns its beauty,
flowers blossom,
our feelings intertwine.

Evening sun
kisses your glow,
deep eyes shine,
your soft smile flow.

Your hand in mine,
I wish forever.

Oh darling,
I'm not at home,
If I'm not with you.
You're my polished floors,
My grand oak door.
The sweet luxury of my bed,
At the end of a long day of longing.
Warmth of my fireplace,
In the evening when not a worldly soul wakes.
When it comes to love,
I'm real picky,
I won't have it if it's not you.

Heaven would be sinned if I spoke of your smile,
The one that pulls you from trenches and throws you to meadows,
Makes the wind lush against your skin,
Like the world couldn’t help but bask in your grin.

It’s the kind of magic that could unravel the stars,
Yet bind you to this earth with a quiet, lingering grace.
I carry it now, in the spaces between each breath,
A warmth that could melt the coldest of nights,
A light I’ll keep, even when the world fades away.

You are the sun
That peeks
Through the window,
Letting me know that
It's time to get the day
Started.

You are the roots,
Cut and carved from the trees
That provide shelter,
A place to live,
A place to grow.
A foundation built
From strong roots,
That stretch and wrap around me.

You are the air that circulates
Through my lungs,
The air that, if I think about too long,
I'll mess up how much
You've changed my life.

When I am in you,
I am not in some house,
Nor am I in just any old room.
I realize that I am home,
That I have everything I need.

When I close my eyes,
The first thing I see
Is you,
And how the first thing
I want to do is come back
To you

I knew your laugh
before I heard it.
I felt your warmth
before you touched me.

We stayed side by side
even in silence
even as time ran ahead.

We stayed side by side
in the quiet of us.

I want to be your scarf,
So soft and mohair,
To warm you in snowfalls
And even in rainy autumn.

I will embrace your neck
Like a mother cradles her child.
I’ll save the warmth for you.
Put on the scarf, be so kind.

I want to be your scarf.
Oh, don’t wear scarfs? Well now,
If I can’t softly warm you,
I’ll be your skin somehow.

the leaves sway and catch sunlight
and i catch both against my cheek
and chase them down to my throat,
crush them into each other into me
into chamomile: a trickling summer

i drown in sword-shorn grasses and
in return for breath they write on
my skin in languages that have never
been spoken, only sung only felt
only studied with one dirt-painted
fingertip, fine hairs punctuating
pink brown imprints of trodden earth

ants count dozens of steps, climbing
the winding train tracks (and rocks
sleeping beneath) of my wrists legs
nose and untraveled stomach, and i
let them travel; let my body be gravel
become highway become interstates to
ugly and restful towns diners hotels

and even as sunlight burns my eyes
and bobcats stalk past forests beyond
the reach of my oven-warm wind-wound
open palm, ground allows its drinks to
seep into my sweatpants desert skin
and curls: an oasis i carry on my back

I like the sun in winters
On cold cold days
The way it beams sunshine
So warmly my way
I soak in the light
As the day calls
Bright molten gold
That from the sky, falls