A garden growing
Green as they get
Just for me somewhere
I cultivate from afar
Sunlight and truth, I send every day
Prayers pollinating good, good soil and seed
Evenings, my knees feel a joyful exhaustion
As I sleep, a Dream, rooted, yet uncontained, leans closer
Morning dew brings proof the weeds haven’t won
Will I reap?
Will the weeping wither, then fade from memory?
Watch with me
Wanting to look
More deep into her eyes
Wanting this thing
More than breathing
Wanting to calm
What stutter-stops his voice
Wanting to know
What does he want
Enter into conversation
She will be your song
Enter into understanding
He will prove myth wrong
Our story is not final, YoSomething about 6 thirty
A.M.
Coffee calling
Birds beckoning
You
Something about 10 minutes
Absent-mindedly
Clutching comfort
Begin burning
Me
Song at the ready
Matchstick in hand
In harmony
Afire for it
We
Song I wanna send
What if my blink lasts an extra beat more
Unintended, I cannot explain
What if while this, my inhale I implore
Is reality seeking to feign?
Gravity, come, take your match by the hand
Ether has waited for this
Fluttering eyes, staccato breath
So much words culminate in a kiss
Tremendous love, resides inside
As an aria
Weightless and burdensome
How is it that such fullness
This nothing less than aching
Arrives and leaves me
Walking
Feeling
As a ghost on Sunday
An otherwise fine, fine day
And there are no ears to touch?
She comes deeper down
Space, the enemy
Distance, a demon
Molecules collect between us, acting as some referee to our match
Banished to our corners before the fight begins
If these lacerations and these mangled bones, inflamed, remain this slow to heal
If Winter wishes to outrank
Then we want our angels
LisaRosier.com 