Sunshine Peak

Once a mountain there was
And a woman most worthy
As any woman is

Taking aim, then falling away
With purposeful looking
Set sight on a different mountain

On being a different woman
And she is allowed
As any woman is

Clover Inside

The let-go girl, I tell you
See her, be her
Lest they make certain you’ll wish you were her
Your time for helping about
For tending clover, for being home
Gone, then
Wilted, without having seen the sun
Cancelled, before commencement
So plant your smile inside you now
Let go, girl

Spilled

Misplaced since forever
I, being still the optimist
Will nevertheless forthwith only choose asterisks
Use lower case letters and mocking-fingers-in-the-air quotation marks

But know my lips, crowned and reaching upward
Outside smiling, inside snarling
Speaking in only opposites
Shall never say so in earnest

Withering Smile

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.

Pink

You’ll take away my grey hair, you will. Magically. Replace each one with the perfect shade of pink champagne. And I’ll be sixty like that. And smiling big from our gentle conversations.

You’ll have my willing green eyes, you will. Automatically. Value simple bike rides without analyzing the weather. And the air in your wings. And so what when the rain pelts your seasoned skin?

You’ll battle my worst tendencies, you will. Tragically. Celebrate the good and bad of them. And together, we’ll love the humble. And Conqueror will be your second middle name.

Soda

Where were we recently, beautiful boy, where you sat so close to me -bubbling happily at having used your voice- and smiled, finally, finally receiving all you so earnestly wanted (a simple enough request, so why’d you been denied so long, we both thought simultaneously), for it’s only sugar, and, after all, what harm could it cause…what trouble might it make?

Copper Daughters

Some of these
Cannot convey just joy
Created and groomed and put on display
Destined
Somber storytellers and hope-beacons
Alike
Unable to deny
There’s reason to smile, to shine
But not fully
There’s cause to rise
But only as high as the least

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