Remind me of the garden I’ve floated in
Tea you used to share
Your laugh to my sweet game
With history on our steppe
I could mark every book full of stars
And still your voice through halls of love
Let me lose years since it’s been
So much to wish and to share
Let us find two handsome garden chairs
As dead leaves fall Autumn around
My heart pulls home warm cups of tea
And family speaks free in your hair
Flourish
And fall like the rest of us;
Autumn my heart can never bear.
And sing it out to me
Steal it from the depths
I’ve covered up and closed.
Be the curling leaf
Upon which my gaze can never leave,
Listen intently
To the voice I never gave
Rumbling rumbling rumbling
Rain that never came
And tender so:
Frosting of my heart.
Rain, an unending apathy
Soaking away my desire
Feeding my inward voice
To a soothing fire
Of warm socks and books
To take all thoughts
Bundled away by leather strap
Into a tent listlessly blowing,
Heaving and relenting
For a softer night dry.
In all the battles I seek to shine
This shall be the one
This shall take my hand and glow
This shall be the one
In every corner I stare upon
This shall sway my voice
This shall be my saving grace
This shall sway my voice
In all the windows I look out from
This shall find my sun
This shall be my simple tree
This shall find my sun
I asked you in an earnest voice
If the weather had been nice –
A windowless entrance into your mind
A sunset in the sky.
And your sunglasses gave you away
On this sunny side of our street
Where I ventured just one other guess
As to where your lover had been lately.
To which you looked the other way
And left me holding onto your
Glass purse now splayed on the floor.
A prison I could only guess,
As I collected quite the mess
In shadows and eye liner pens.
So I turned back into my coffee
That was more straight then you did seem
To let her cursing steam away
And the news was getting cold.
“I’m not that fun”
Said the crescent moon
That wept loudly
Amidst autumn’s leaves
Spread carelessly perfect
On an empty yard
Sitting aimlessly awkward
With such high hopes.
And then thy heart stripped.
Forsooth, a voice sounded;
To gasp, even just for a brief moment
The complexities no shadows
Could reveal.
I cannot grasp what it will mean to send you off again,
What it will mean to let you go;
Finger tips to finger tips and not looking back
And hearing the roar of big jet planes
Overcome my trembling heart
That fleeting moments have left disoriented,
Direction home now jumbled and unrecognizable
Like the clouds you’ll soon be looking down upon.
I cannot find solace in a text to voice ratio,
In a line to line heartbeat filled of stories from afar.
But I will write until my pen blotches all my
Blank pages sad, and leaves my exclamation marks
Simple puddles in a mess.
So come back soon,
Before my heart begins to beat too soft a vibration,
And my pen runs out of black.
When this voice begins to rise
Like a letter I did not write
Could you hold your hand out now?
I’m a Saint and you’re the cloud.
If this sound was more then that,
If words were meant for writing
Would the pen keep upright marks?
To pause between the breaths.
All my paper has begun to curl,
And you’re the little triangles
I’ve drawn around the page
To fit between my mind.
Like lightning, truth descended,
Flapping lightly as she landed
Upon an altar I had cleaned for her.
Her honesty changed me,
Her beauty held me,
Her eyes led me
Into a heart that I was.
Wings are my lightness,
Peace is my soaring,
Freedom is my voice
That extends like horizon.
Whisper like you’ve lost your eyesight and are trembling with a start, thinking your voice is stuck between your two wings, between your breast and clawing to escape from your Little Red Riding Hood [red] and wet branches of a dead tree [brown].