Through the rain stained glass,
With a sickly purple hue,
I can see early marsh orchid,
And it makes me think of you.

The gardener's son
Is looking at it too,
His sickly grey suit
Makes me think of you.

I was not born a bog child,
I was only passing through,
The Irish Lady's Tresses
Made me think of you.

There are planes up there
They are soaring against electric blue

They are made of such wonder

Yet all I can think is how lovely life is
Down here on the ground, with you.

Pitter patter of miniature feet
Children are something that I want

I always have
And always will

But my own children aren't necessarily
Something that I can have

They are beautiful
And worthy of life
And as open-minded as I can be
I don't want to **** mine

But I will not have to pay
For surgery nor for drugs
So let me freeze my potentials
Let me remove my shallow caves

I do not need them anymore
Just like you don't need her

Love me love me love me
I am your child

I always have been
And always will be

I love you
So love my kids...
(However they arrive)
Because they will arrive...
And love you too

Only lonely love is holy.
Holes for souls to go out
And about as they sway.
Fewer newer ones that
Never stay. Gone they are
Shooting stars. Flying by
Quick tears of cosmic crying.
Or maybe angels at angles
Not thought possible.

I want lovely love.
Holy unlonely love.
Seen enough seraphic stars
To mimic my own. Fill my
Hole-y heart so I may start anew.
Receive the love due. I must believe
The wait is worth it. The earth keeps
turning and I weep as learning
Earns me the truth.

On a clear waking night I
Will take my aching heart
And hold it out hoping
A stray teardrop
Will fall from the sky
And stay in my heart.
Cosmic crying at such
Comic timing. It is enough
To make me wonder. Ponder
Why I do this-

It is all I can do.

I have oh so many thoughts and feelings,
Hundreds and thousands,
Millions and billions,
But can i put them into words?
No
Not at all
*Never