I, critical of every word chosen
What sort of life is this,
I plead.
Creative soul, release this fear
Living on the edge of me.
Save these poems,
I’ve chosen to share
Don’t allow my retreat,
My eyes reverent and engaged.
Tell me, poet traversing,
Are these words healing you
Or me
He slowly wakes her,
quiet, and the only one
as love’s color lays upon velvet petals, he hums.
His hands feel her beautiful,
remarkable, softly serene. His murmur, awakening her scent at dawn, leads her blossoming.
Helios, Titan god of her sun, stretches and whispers she is exquisite, mine and for now, done.
Oldest Daughter & Red Headed Sister 