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If I had wings the size of helicopter blades
I would circle the world over and look for you
If I owned bulbous sheen o'er Irish glades
tinged in bronze I would enhance, accrue
the worldly space of you, for I love you

If I were paper or some origami glue    
I would enfold your secrets inside my heart    
If I were a harbinger of love an Angel of hue
a Carvaggio masterpiece of light and dark  
I wouldn't need to travel far to be with you

If I knew the waltz I could dance to your music  
I would leave behind my celestial lair
If I knew you needed me, I would be quick
I'd turn back the time and fly through the air
land at your side because I do care

I'd circle the world for the ripple effect of  your smile,  
then enter your soul, just to bridge the last mile.
I close my eyes and recall yesterdays beautiful summers
barbecues from charcoal bricks and slow basted meats
aromas that lingered long after the first sizzle of rare
Mother arriving with a platter of raw hotdogs and steaks
dad fanning the fire with an old tin top.   Fumigated waves
of thick gray smoke filling the air, we waited hungerly  .
Later stuffed as little piglets we would gather round
the wooden picnic table, and tell stories and jokes.  
The sun would slowly begin to descend and the air
would gently cool. We'd all go inside for hot tea
and a little T.V. sitcom.
How I miss the old days, wish I could bring back
even for just one day,. so I could smell the barbecue
and drink mother's sugary strawberry Koolaid,
one more time.
INTO THIS WORLD OF LOVE I HAVE BEEN PLANTED
LIKE A PRECIOUS SEED DEEP BENEATH THE SOIL
I GREW UP FULL OF HOPES AND DREAMS,  
BREATHING AND LIVING IN THIS BITTERSWEET EMBROIL;
I BELONG HERE IN AS MUCH AS THE SUN, MOON AND STARS
IN THIS WORLD OF LOVE, I TOO CAN SHINE
ALL THE KINDNESS AND LOVE IN MY HEART,  
I IMPART & GIVE TO THOSE WHO NEED IT MOST...
I assumed you would always be there
like the sun and the moon and the stars
Deducing that we were like resin and glue  
always adhesive as two

I imagined a life together as one
forging metal, releasing the fire  
into the furnace of love we would go
how was I to know

That a star is none else but a fixed point of light
and the sun is a gleam, of radiant confusion
that the moon is none else but reflective sparks,  
I presumed we'd be together forever

like the sun and the moon and the stars,  
like the sun and the moon and the stars.
In the mirror of life the ripples of time project anew  
while each moment of light simply reflects back to you
every changing nuance captured from a distance
is focused to the point of radius, it's your accrue
Incurved leaning towards your personal perception
the mirror of life delivers the path to your personal truth
Whether accurate or not you shape your reflection
according to what you see and what you deduce;
Intuit thoughts arise and suddenly the mirror cracks
with arms wide open, "come to accept yourself"
In a world of monumental perfect, flaws are beautiful too
the mirror of life is kind to you, when you decide to look
deeper than the surface, wider than the sea
in the end the mirror says, " it's always been you and me "
The womb of a mother is a cradle for a child to grow in
a nine month gestation grace period is a child's sweet elation
Mother tenderly sings to her little one as she waits to give birth !

A mother is a vessel of purity, also a    

Mother's heart, is full of love for her child
Object of her desire, "a baby with ten little toes and ten little fingers"
Tenderly woven thoughts arrive at the font of her pregnancy
Hieroglyphical sounds and body rotations, she is mesmerized
Enchanted by a human life growing inside of her she
Reveres the treasure within her and prays for safe delivery
Search the whole world over and you will never find a purer

Love, than the love a mother has for her child
Over the moon and infatuated with her infant she cradles  
Validating her affections to the gem before her eyes
Each time a woman delivers a child, Angels pluck their harps of gold.  

Copyright © Mystic Rose Rose | Year Posted 2022
The most beautiful morning stretches before my eyes
beneath a parapet of pink gloaming, one promised breath
All Remains of yesterday swallowed by a burst of fresh air
both window and I are privy to a turtle dove cooing on my ledge
"This is not my habitat"  she seems to coo sweetly  
I answer her in honesty " it isn't mine either" sweet thing
The coffee smells good and my dippy egg is semi-soft
I sense a new beginning and I am not afraid;
Tomorrow's hopes are perched safely on my shoulder
and somehow, I am not afraid of growing older
Heaven is not a pipe dream mirage from where I stand
God is having a giggle, at the turtle dove and I

Written by: Mystic Rose
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