The magic of this world
Can be found with each rotation
A bad day ends at the dawn each day
and resets
Even with such an ability to rewind
To start over
Tell me,
Why do you feel the need to live there?
In the past.
Love and live with us here
Where each day is a new beginning
And every breeze can carry you
To something new

Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams

In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know

Small boat with two names
Cutting the waves gliding
Always doubting its direction
In the light of day
Failing feeling written on the golden side
Strangest of names as if
Doomed is the cause
And with a sense of cause
It floated on allowing itself
To be moved by the waves
Sipping an everlasting
Cocktail of faith and doubt
So bland in the sun
In the storm she was something different
Powerful and persistent
She turned into a Warrior
Powerful enough to hold oneself
Within the strength to give hand to another
To dare step outside the line
Compulsively to disengage with
Each and every prescribed pattern
Unfelt
So much energy in the storm
So alive and engaged
And at the light of day tearing at seams
From comfort of warm summer waters
Conflicted boat waiting for the right moment
Of illumination to match
The inner urge to dive deeply

A fistful of time...
Saw the doing and the undoing
of misguided hands.

A fistful of words...
Hurled in exchange,
like expended rounds that
drew more than they should.

A fistful of life...
Taken for granted
and traded in for
forgotten sands.

A fistful of heart...
Wrung dry by familiar digits...
Suffocating still...
Like I knew it would.