
dreamt of gracious willows
swaying against the winds
with echoes of smitten
weaving within its leaves
dreamt of gracious willows
swaying against the winds
with echoes of smitten
weaving within its leaves
not one star in the sky tonight
tho’ we rarely speak of them
’tis mostly children, cars and simpler times
in their own right, they all shine
cardinals a symbol of what we mean to me
what will come of thee
verdant grass continues
will it even matter now
darkness looms beyond the street
allow shadows to envelope completely
You can hear the sound of this machine working
– you know you can –
if you’re as old as me,
and grew up in a small Midwestern town,
she was an occasional reality.
We heard about newfangled ways of serving others,
but what we had was good enough.
We understood how to fix her, simple trial and error,
no fuss or awkward searching – some days a little pat on the bottom, or the sweet whisper of, “come on baby” and she’d spring to life.
I smile because she was a dinosaur in the 80s,
yet we were proud.
Seems there is still plenty of good happening right here,
if you’ll allow it.
I miss the days of lost in cerulean and clouds,
even though searching for you came with a cost,
my mind ardently invented you as I lie on the ground.
moments screamed past me then, and there’s no getting them back,
yet I feel fulfilled when memories rush in,
blessed, some would say to forget what I lacked.
a path was forged, one I so desperately needed,
the voice inside me tasted like screaming –
to most it wouldn’t make sense but free, my friend, isn’t always freedom.
If sunsets are passion, run don’t wait.
Tug on shirt tails and grip with both hands – love straight away.
Why wait!
Beauty fades but laughter, love and devotion will always remain.
summertime is what I see
old barn needs some red,
some foolish Gen Z said
my response, “wanna bet!”
leave her alone she’s good as she sits,
what a glorious storytime tone this shade of red is.
afternoon surprise
babe’s breath chosen wildly
delightful workday
crucial some would say
the space between then and now
fluctuates between right
and wrong, expected
obviously.
looking back – foolish,
forward eventually becomes – available.
we possess forward.
when shared,
is it ever really your own?
what is time without a watchful eye,
til color fades, we mustn’t
gray tones allow hope
say it is so, dear one.
how is it my hands feel the road and its bumps,
while tires roll atop –
proof we’ve been here before
and what a journey it was.
clouds become pillows,
for murmurs under the sheets,
and the rain in the distance
a melody I remember and
cherish, please believe.
today is full of beauty, I smirk
yet again.
passionate in the ordinary I shall remain,
and glimpses of tomorrows
shall nudge me forward,
across the plains.
in sunlit arching
rays warming stretched limbs
begging for a place
as our sun sets I reach for you
a hint please, if even this exists.
why would I question
your strength surrounds me
the wind becomes your touch
the geese flying behind me
speak the words I long to hear
yet, in a language
I cannot understand.
my eyes settle on tangerine hues
as my world settles in
for the night.
I sigh good evening, my love,
where have you been and where shall we go?
ringlets the color of copper pennies
arms stretched out into blue,
wildflowers in lilac are hidden
yet aching to appear.
a vision in giggles while the swoosh
of her skirt passes through,
blissful pockets of lush blankets,
as the sun summons her here.
now bound in heaven upon earth
swells abide in precise hues
did Aurora lead the way or
simply twilight, craving her near.
to admire – positive judgement
assume greatness
adoration – deepened affection
fulfilled within greatness
to consume – accede desire
ravenous acts of duty
obssess – diminish reality
mistreat self
Our minds are consumed
with a legion of details.
Where to begin deemed
obvious by most,
if you could feel the pulse;
a quickened heartbeat,
you’d know there’s no recovery.
We’re past all that,
bits too forgone to consider,
the beauty lies, quite perfectly
just beyond
and your hands belong there.
if you played the guitar, I’d listen
watch your fingers sort the notes
classic bass tones mutter,
they’re the ones I love the most
if painting was your passion
topography comes to mind
blues depicting life in detail
I’d sit pretty within the sky line
if the voyage across the seas
called you away; waking the beast inside
use your mind, I’d plea
wouldn’t be like you to hide
if photography was your passion
and you found me teary-eyed in wonder
nature hook’d a poetess of attraction
and to know her is to love her
evaluate with the eyes of Hamlet
allow your breath to stop
hand to hand you may notice
the love you feel you may not
insurance required
beginning of the ending
memory delete
magic seemed to crackle its way
through the clouds for twilight
tonight,
a sparkler held by the hand we all know.
little orbs of hot air spun bright
spehers of knowledge,
seemed to be blown
just out of reach from where
I stood,
yet life looked alive as
the pastels spread
and something felt just as
it should.
someone should claim her
take her straight home
pink like cotton candy
and made for a throne