Content in myself
Watching those thrive around me
Joy of fulfillment 


My Confession 

T’was not work
Creating you,
Inside my mind.
I felt you arrive,
Every. Single. Time.
Me, creative soul
Turned prima dona, maybe.
Mostly, a simple woman.
You laid upon my heart
With your words.
Not for me, you insisted,
But I took them as my own
Because without them
I was still ordinarily alone.
More than anything,
I didn’t want to be.
A shame,
For I am audacious,
Clearly seeing
Myself now
And I love me.

Vision of Reality


Across an aquamarine pool
star fairies sparkle and glisten,
a scene of brillance, splediferously true,
found now shimmering upon my fair skin.

Secluded moments live here, too
dancing and guiding are the wisps
throughout the day, into twilight’s hues,
freckles, counted, by way of sun’s kiss, claim me.

Apollo offers to illuminate the view,
his hands sculpting radiance; bronze tones,
as summer temperatures offer proof,
his abilities masterful and, yes, epic.

Cicada’s persistence found romantic,
while evening shades finally filter through,
smell of honeysuckle murmurs to the wind,
hinting to how life could be once alone with you.