Azaleas in Spring
Know their blush will soon wither.
Still grateful, they bloom.
For a friend
If you will my roots to rise
We shall go on stumbling.
Surrounded with memories
Of distant places.
But I wonder,
What will you think
When you're not alone
Sleepy looks in bed,
Met for only the instant,
But how slow it's sped
I think hours about that minute, months past,
Wishing my cab hadn't come.
Wishing we hadn't places
Nor people to be.
Though few nights more than strangers,
Our dream striding cities and oceans,
Not a thing was out of place
Simply and so naturally,
As I held you for the last time,
Felt your lips on mine,
Then walked away.
We are thrown to the Earth -- what for?
Without even the least mark to bear,
Waves that toss and **** and side the shore.
In the breaking ocean -- what glory is there?
Still I cannot think by chance it's kept,
For we share time and its passing, fleet,
For our eyes, find the other's step,
Our voices, their echoes meet.
Rathering shed our memory, more our name,
Of the climbing dawn, our love beneath it,
Than serve cruel reason and falsely claim,
We hadn't been born to see it.
For Mother's day 💐
Thousand formless threads
lull tides in one who keeps such
webs of restless peaks.