An adventure is exiting
like running through the hills
or exploring the old mill
it's doing it even though it's frightening

An adventure is growing
like learning act
or covering for what you lack
it's realizing you have to keep going

An adventure is anything
like fighting something furry
or going out with friends for curry
it's practically everything

An adventure is what you make it

it's life

Blank spaces & empty rooms

filled with nothing but salty air
it hangs heavy with palpable despair

Darkened halls & lonely tombs

where no moonlight shines on the stones
that cover forgotten bones

Old souls & new spirits

whispering like the wind through the trees
laughing like the clinking of old keys

Faithless chapels & flowerless graves

leaving the dead to the earth
and our sorrows buried in exchange for mirth

Life is a game of telephone
my messages mingle in my throat
the translation is lost
some where between my lips it twists

when I mean I love you
it comes up meekly as hello
when I mean do you want to get coffee
it comes up as you look nice today

Miscommunication led to friendship
games of telephone go on
I sit at your side through life

when I mean your my everything
it comes you as best friend
when I mean I can't live without you
it comes out as I'll always be here for you

Year on down the road
you're still unreachable right next to me
every conversation
a long game of telephone

Dear flower do you bloom?
in darkness
in night
in the moonlight

Dear flower do you grow?
in the forest
in the cove
in the grove

Dear flower do you love?
with all my heart
with everything
with an angels wing

Dear flower do you forgive?

Silk spun gold
softly fall on gentle shoulders
an intricate braid tucked behind your ear
a bead swings on the end
glittering in the sunlight  

A circlet lays on your brow
poppies, bluebells, and a rose
woven with oak leaves behind
green like emeralds in your eyes

They are closed now
as you lay on stone
face relaxed and soft as petals
a sharp contrast from before

A tiger lily is clutched in your hand
and a hydrangea falls from mine

Beauty is a concept
a misty morning without sight
the tree near the road
we know it's there
yet cannot see

Beauty enduring
forever with us
and in our sights
we define it over millennia
beauty is everywhere

Beauty is a concept
textbook definitions and simplicity
but in societies diverse
it is undefinable to all but the individual

Beauty ephemeral
always changing
in constant flux
never the same to another
beauty is no where