a cliff above the floor ~

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had i nothing
but this moment –
and a place
to lay your head
echoes of a promised
evermore
sealed within
this silence –
til i awake
within your dream –
balanced on a cliff
above the floor
had i nothing
but forever –
and breath
to love you so –
solace when the night
is filled with
dread
had i nothing
but a lifetime more than
just this one i know –
another time
a place to lay
your head

. . .

places long imagined ~

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were not for once
you wondered
who I was
and why I came
from places
long imagined
but never said
aloud
in passing –
lest your fingers
be tempted by the red
to begin
an undertaking –
an explorer
undecided where to land
how many streams
for crossing
might delay
your sweet return
to a place
you had forgotten
how to be

. . .

the time it took to find ~

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would that longing
understand –
the ways by which we loved
ten thousand sighs –
rivers to the sea
should ever grace
be given for
the time it took
to find
or chapters dedicated
to our pleas
will history remember
every whisper
every touch –
will canyons remain empty
as proof of us –
when dreams are lost
to counting
nights beneath the chill
as darkness comes
to break our hearts again
what of love will
intercede
when light is turned
to stone –
reminders of the places
love has been

. . .

sideways glance ~

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secreted away
as the eldest daughter
of a favored son
a will that gave
away the farm
was never mine to give
how much of these
were pardon
for the ways I am
with you
how much I gave
without a thought
of all there was
to lose
morning sits
beyond the frost
as sure is warmth
to come
carried by
the wondering of
who was I before
a sideways glance
to alter fate
a cloud to hide
the moon
more than this
as heaven here –
evidence
of truth

. . .

my song ~

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for moments
unaccounted –
a lifeline strung along
love awaited
past pretension
not to worry
at your wrongs –
your ways
a plea becoming
words I wait
the night to hear
touch I crave
this one and
only –
you were come
and love was here
in the cool
beneath my pillow
shadows
folded into dawn
moments
time became
illusion
when your touch
became
my song

. . .

translation ~

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roses are sweet
though I can never tell
the point where
essence is lost
table top manners
and looking glass gold
frail as these fingers
to hold

repent me
no longer –
were nothing but skin
succumb to your waiting
again

mystic translation
of who I became –
bartering breath
for sorrow
fate of the faithless
to bow

long stilled
the passion
of summers made sweet –
whispers forgotten
another someday –
muttering madness
secrets to lies

will takes the hunger
away

. . .