Withering Smile

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Once the hydrangeas have decided, there is no turning back. They bloom just for you. Intentionally. Enough sweltering days strung one-after-another makes them crazy enough to believe.

And delusional. They let you walk ever-so-near. They don’t see you’ve a gardener’s shears behind your back. And your intention…to display them on your basement table.

Emerge Again

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To you, girl

Sister to Sister

My sole and loving admonition

If there be trust, if there be hope

It will be found in your eyes

Your eyes

Where they gaze

How they see

And the choosings they reflect upon

I make much of words with you

Made-up words, maybe

But your eyes, I know well

I know the Who you believed in

And still believe

In Your eyes

Within Your grasp

As the narcissi beneath the freeze

There be reason for trust and hope

No Longer Doubting

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What I am is not a pale, pink flower
Yet, it is only January
And such things are all I see

Time taking its sweet time
Just for me
And silvery, sunny days

Sudden smiles at the door
That I am well-trained to hear
And voices I don’t fear

All as if a reminder
To never expect
And to expect after all

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The Actual Eternal

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A damned good author

Who’ll debate with me well

Yet write lies

Conceived in etherless light reflective

Of darkness and wars neither worth it

Nor won

I’m this fantastic, fantasy-filled flower

Facing somewhere true

Journeying along the narrow path

That bends across the expanse of time

Evergreen, it’s said, and analog

Evidenced by The Actual Eternal

A Single Piece of Silver

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With a curious morose
They look at you 
As if seeing a long-faded flower
They take pains to not stare
Lest you see pity in their eyes

With a melancholy kindness
They are polite
As if you are fragile
They gently do not linger
Lest their affection break your brittle bones