I sit beside you
A thousand miles away,
Holding your hand in my heart.
I can see your eyes
That can only look back
To where the sun was hot
And your childhood stretched
Beyond peace.

Until dreams undid you.
Your heart wasn’t big enough
For the monstrous three time loss.
But  the fourth broke you
And Hope eloped with Happiness.

Living became coping
And you, ever grateful for a nod.
In your prison you did your best,
But broken tools don’t always mend
You were wrong, it turns out -
Love isn’t always the answer.

Mother Earth
No sacrifice She makes
Is small
At the hands of many
Who do not honor
Her at all.

And yet each Spring
New life is born
Flowers bloom
And the animals play
Hope made new
From Winter's gloom.

But the hands of men
Need to understand
Her resilience
Will not last.
And that all humans
Have a responsibility
To preserve Her brilliance-
Steadfast.

Mother Earth
Her weight on our shoulders now
Yet She continues to give.
From Her roots & soils; harvest is plenty
Into our bellies
So that all may live.

May we set aside
Our pride and ego
And all our selfish industrial waste
Get back to nature; honoring Her lands
Great care we need to take
Of Mother Earth for all our days.

©KSS 2/18/2021

Mon amour, in this room I am haunted by my cologne, that you stole and made your own; it lingers, like these feelings of you alone.

My hands ruffle the sheets; nails and fingers birth wrinkles where they meet. Though the memories of your locks between my fingers... to these I retreat; to these feelings, I fall asleep.

Pray return to my embrace, and end this eternal vigil with grace. Pray return to my arms, sound and safe; for each breath breathed without you here, is a waste.

The trouble with ends is not ends
As such as ends always come,
Sooner or later the good or the bad
I have in my life will absolutely,
Like my life here,
End,

No - what hurts is not the ending
But those realisations one has beforehand,
That something was a mistake,
Or that what I thought I knew
I just
Don't,

When you know someone
Truly appreciates you,
Gets who you are
Warts and all then find they dont,
And worse than that - they
Won't.

I'm wearing the same old clothes,
binging the same ol’ shows,
seeing the days anastomose.
and waiting for my vaccine dose.

I’m humming the same ol’ songs,
dreading the rerun dawns,
trying to at least appear strong,
but becoming angry and withdrawn.

I'm tired of the same old faces,
of being stuck in these boring places,
of feeling my nights are wasted,
and dreaming of friends embraces.

I'm writing the same ol’ verse.
becoming increasingly terse,
knowing it could be worse,
waiting for the end of this curse.

and the days are getting shorter.
Hours into minutes into seconds,
squished together like nesting dolls
until they are lost to infinity. You don't

know the value of sleep yet,
so read your dog-eared paperbacks
by the muted glow of your flashlight,
hidden under your blankets like a

prodigal son. Keep your heavy eyes open
because the pictures in your books
will silently climb out of their pages
while you're asleep, escaping through your

bedroom window. Your bones are getting longer
and your book bag is getting heavier.
So spend your precious seconds wisely,
because as the years change, those seconds will get shorter.