The Softness Of Life
In the softness of
life it's her smile
that keeps the flow
of mystery, the small
tremors of love sent
through her brief,
undeniable selves.
In the morning light
she is like a crystal
born of dreams and
every hour, every
day, she begins to
sprout new leaves.
Wrapped in the
petalled chaos of
sheets she is lit by
the sun like a gold
Venetian halo.
Her world is a gift
of hope untouched
by any dark thoughts
that may coalesce,
and her future has
a voice of its own,
an echo of serene
words inside of her.
Mirror Of Dreams
In my mirror of
dreams I see you
again leaning on
hope, the pale irises
of your eyes once
reflecting the torn
skies of the mind
and, when I listen
to you speak I hear
your voice, its humble
tone telling me you
won't be staying for
very long. Yet now
that you are out of
reach your weary
features lay tattooed
in my memory, and
feeling your absence,
there is an empty
space in a soundless
room. A few seconds
of sunlight are enough
for today, and loneliness
is such an invisible door.
Seldom do you pass
this way.
Petals Of Water
After her swim she
wipes petals of water
from her skin, a wet,
cool pleasure lifting
her burden of joy as
brightness brushes
the earth and idyllic
home she lives in.
Her thoughts converse
with the flowering muse
in her mind, a dialogue
without falsity. Words
spring up through her
throat, out past her
definitive lips. A sassy
speech of love. Crushed
roses spill from her bowl
of milk glass; she rubs
their scent on her finger-
tips. Her voice trembles
like tiny wings, and she
raises her hands in prayer
up to the dying sun.
