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.
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.
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
someone should claim her
take her straight home pink like cotton candy and made for a throne
cinnamon sugar combo more eaters needed home seemingly quietier woman for hire
make believe moment
silly self conversation popping yellow corn
we’re supposed to be thankful,
even prepared for adventure, makes us tougher. I didnt ask, and strength is relative.
Pristine in color
brings laughter along to play causes wistfulness. I’d beg, but daylight is fleeting.
Snowflakes’ touch is delicate
lips ruby red; passionate my tongue quick to taste. The water slows, and life quiets.
a wooden hand cross holds
my hand back; touched a child’s toy soldier to remind me daily of him; once protected a rock from the mountains; pure joy exists. Compartmentalized needs.
reminders beckon hither pastel sweet cream
who we are is decided
yet ever flowing, correct? be the breeze; gentle and free be steadfast in image, thought and deeds, I see you, Mr. Redbird, I see you watching me among the debris. Your tweet insists following or even a reminder you’re near, but most of all its a sign I do know love, and hello new year.
Where did my thoughts go
Back burner, they’d disclose Who chased me away A silly dream, I’d say How come I’m quiet Learning my place, but I digress What’s the plan To heal and begin again, I guess When will you emerge Today.
for where the breath you take comes with ease
she walked along a careful breeze
trying not to upset those she thought she needed
laughter distanced itself
worth noting the invisibility
fought against a fierce wind
which made her curls slap her nose, then
silliness of it all encouraged
her tiny nose twitch and dimples to take flight
the giggles were quite a shock
I am the girl
who holds every word received in her hands. Searches each paragraph with hope, of finding a piece adoration for me.
When days drag, here in the office alone and the optimism is low,
There’s this; your quick video of the open road.
My smile begins across the eyes, a sparkle creates a giggle, my mind senses your truth.
I’m not there but I feel the energy you often exude.
A tractor trailer rolls on down the road, spit causes the shine, and your power is felt by everyone as you drive along by.
Yet, Little Deuce Coupe, is the tune you’re singing, tapping your cowboy boot against the pedal: a musical pair unlike any other.
And I grin, because I’m proud of you, who you are, and wish I was riding along, Big Brother.
treasures kept sheltered
harbored closely within delicate layers possibly sought after, one day
keenly aware, yet
hesitant to believe in their existence, he’ll seek
may she be found adequate,
even desirable, arguably – his purpose, one day