Pursuit

dreams surround a homesteading such as this,
no amount of work could persuade them to leave.
his heart was given so long ago, and the farm has held on ever since.

the birds sang quite rightly the day she pulled in,
the tire was giving her fits.
when he took his cap off and extended his hand,
his eyes caused hers to lift, amused by the pink shade of shy she wore with her smile, he let off on his farmer’s tight grip.

hard became harder as sunsets created do-overs, and laughter filled the crisp winter air.
facts remained, but pleasure pursued as two strangers became one another,
encouraging life to come tumbling after.

Weeding Out

Imperative for growth to flourish appropriately,

It’s a sinking feeling when the time arrives,

And one we rarely want to admit to, because normalcy is comfortable.

Sometimes change masks itself as unknown, but we know.

One gut-wrenching pull at a time convinces us of its necessity, and the digging continues.

Beauty is stifled by its surroundings, however, she clings to what slowly kills her.

The world is full of what should be if we lean in: find grounding and settle.

Surely the weeding ends,

And the tools go back to the shelf.

Persuasion

glows does the moon
beyond the branches, which held verdant prisms of summertime,
rich with thoughts of what could be come daylight.

a star just to the north points towards a path I’m unsure of
but regrettably stare into,
the cold air touches the tears I shed for the prayers I’ve said,
nothing makes sense as the fairytale ends.

night, oh night, you shout at me so,
what shall come of my young soul; trapped in a body at the peak of her age
clouds bustle by, such hurry
I ponder what awaits
just past the horizon of a foolish wish, held back by this garden gate.

Discovery

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.

Summons

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.

If …

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

Vulnerability

we’re supposed to be thankful,
even prepared for adventure,
makes us tougher.
I didnt ask, and strength is relative.

Bitter

Pristine in color
brings laughter along to play
causes wistfulness.
I’d beg, but daylight is fleeting.

Revelation

Snowflakes’ touch is delicate
lips ruby red; passionate
my tongue quick to taste.
The water slows, and life quiets.

Peace