Her heart fluttered,
When the little bird landed on her hand.

He was contented to sit
And fluff himself,
Perched on her finger,
And her heaviness and darkness
Dripped and dribbled
In streaks down her cheeks
While he sang.

The knot inside her loosened,
A little,
And she breathed,
Deep and easy.

When he lifted off her hand
And flitted away,
Some of the heavy went with him.

She smiled a yearling sort of smile,
Crooked and small,
And she tucked a feather into her heart
For safekeeping.

Walking in a dream,
           disjointed,
Heavy on her head,
           anointed,
Icy fingers,
           inward pointed,
Walking in a dream.

Walking in a dream,
           she wanders,
Hiding on the edge,
           she ponders,
Bitter nightshade petals
           donned her
Walking in a dream.

Walking in a dream,
           she's peeling,
As she walks
           her hands revealing,
Shattered glass
           is bending, healing,
Walking in a dream.

Walking in a dream
           and seeking,
Round the darkened corners
           peeking,
Maybe she should start it,
           speaking,
Let her sunlight beam.

Tear the knitted seam.

Crinkled little eyes
Outlast time and memory.
They are warm and bright
And accompanied by
Sunbeams of laughter.
They shine with mirth and mischief,
The same today and yesterday,
Every time she smiles.
She’ll be beautiful
In yellow.

2 trees,
And between them,
A boy.

He peeks and his eyes are wide,
And wary,
And the light is
Suffocating and
Invigorating.

If he only reaches,
The noonday rays
Will bathe his hand
With bright.

The sidewalk shone and glittered,
Under the gaze of the moon.
The crickets' endless singsong
Had followed them since June.

The crunching of plants
And the yelping of dogs,
And the glowing of lights
And the singing of frogs,
And the blinks and winks
Of distant starshine
Trailed them as they walked.

The heady scent of night
Was deep and blue.
It stuck to their clothes and skin,
And it pooled beneath their shoes.

Quiet steps
And whisp'ring clouds,
Lonely lights
And shimm'ring shrouds
And the brights and whites
Of summer midnight
Crowned them as they talked.

The darkness
Paved a shimmering path
To a quiet world
Brushed with sighs and silver.