Come,
Dip your toes in,
Delight in the silky cold
That refreshes both
Body and spirit.
Notice how your breath
Gasps, reciprocally stiflingly 
and in liberation.
Come and enjoy
The simplicity.

The scent of the garden,
Left its traces on my hands,
As I danced around pulling weeds
and disposing of them in bands.

I would give the winter's breath,
the shiver of frost on every pane,
to hold the weight of your laughter again,
to braid your name into the soft dusk.

I would give the moon,
its chalky whispers in the dark,
to hear your voice once more—
a ribbon of light cutting through my grief.

Oh, I would give my hands,
these tired, trembling hands,
if they could reach through the thin veil of silence,
if they could cradle your cheek,
brush your hair like I used to,
sing you to sleep again.

I would give the stars,
their distant promises, their cold fire,
just to say what I should have said every day:
I love you.
I miss you.
You were my sun, my endless summer.

But the world takes what it will,
and leaves only echoes.
So I sit here in the ruins of myself,
writing your name on the wind,
letting my love rise like smoke,
like a prayer you might still hear.

What I would give,
my darling,
is everything—
for just one more moment,
one more chance
to tell you
you were always enough.

the tears are deep,
deeper than my skin.
they come up from the deep,
fears and lost dreams from within.
the tears that come
from all the lives not taken,
the tears are cries
from all the paths mistaken.
the tears were all
the dreams I've shaken
and nothing comes from
but only depression was awakened.
but then the tears were a release
from all the sorrows brazen.

I found myself, this morning,
Participating in a ‘new’ sport.
Though timeless, reaching back to my youth.
As the days curb closer, the end of the year nears,
So do the shadows stretch out before me.
Chasing shade spots, as I pounded the pavement,
trying to hide from the sun, which was already 
shooting shards of heat and demanding her dominance.
Shade then became God’s grace revealed.

life is full of good times,
bad times and everything
that blurs the lines.

my good times vary,
overseas trips, and
my heart doing flips.

but the bad times,
they run the same script;
you aint good enough, never will be, what a trip!

now, the in-between,
seems so dull not to mean
anything, but it's mine.

my life is full
of good times,
bad times and
everything in between.