twilight red ~

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a sweeter sun
than e’er I thought
would rise to warm my face
tides are rolled
to bring us home –
far beyond
this place

as another dawn
a twilight red –
a place where life
remembers
where dreams are made
and wanting fades
verses heed no longer

for every truth
denied a place
another yet remains
in silence
words are spoken anyway

whispered into being –
solace of a prayer
this I know
where’er I go –
I was come
to stay

. . .

sunday after all ~

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the path is worn
as if o’er time –
the way might be erased
tho flowers bloom each Sunday
after all
midnight yearns
and I have learned –
tis not for me to squander
the hope for one more
morning –
wherever promise falls

each time
I think I might be gone
I find the door ajar –
locks once held the windows
rusted now
lights I thought would never burn
stream a golden pasture
echoes ring
remember me –
should e’er your heart
allow

. . .

darkness used to be ~

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of moments shared
the count too few –
a route for getting back
runs east to west
and north beyond my view
pages torn
and photos faded
where am I to go
when every shred of evidence
is nothing I can hold
no souvenirs
or passion cleft –
no path we walked along
no proof exists beyond my heart
of love we must have known
can’t change the rules
to resurrect
a life before you came
the girl I was before I learned
the taste that was your name
if e’er a means were garnered
and I with time to prove
how long the waste in seeking
all I know as truth
of stars where darkness
used to be
solace for days between
truth I held when no one knew
how it was
to dream

. . .

a place I’ve sworn to be ~

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however lost
are moments past
now folded into days
and pushed against
the places I can’t reach
lessened by my leaving
a memory returns
of another life –
a place
I’ve sworn to be

when choosing comes
take my hand
lest we lose our way
imagine us a moment without end
welcomed recognition
of each eternity –
where love awaits
the choice to love
again

. . .

habits ~

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silver swords
pierce the soil
and rise to dwarf the clover
purple sashes wrap
to slender legs
branches bent by evergreen
are pressed against the bloom
of sycamore and dogwood
ancient plum with weed
yet all I feel
as breezes blow
is a reminder to allow
a story here becoming
what I’ve read
and what I know –
how their fragrance
fills my senses
with the memory of snow –
of last September
maples swirling
just beyond my bed –
as falling leaves surrendered
to habits of regret
for harvests lost
as lessons found –
how it was we came
to touch the sweetest season
yet love them all
the same

. . .

let me ~

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let me mend the part
which hurts the most –
and love where needed best
let me whisper
when no other vow will do
let the essence of my promise
be enough to calm your soul
when I speak of love
you know I speak
to you

let me ease whate’er
needs easing –
let me bear what dreams can’t keep
I will hear without you saying –
I will feel what I can’t see

let me take of all
and take some more
whate’er you have to lose
I will guard the night you sleep beneath
and brave the stars
for you

. . .