Lonely Heart’s Home

Empty bed for two

Empty spot for a kitten

But no one comes home.

Worth the Work

When I remember

I think Pixar and road trips

The things that made Us.

Sacred Vows

How to convince you

My love for you is so true?

Please hear my prayer.

Of Love and Loss

This feels like a death

Yet each of us is alive.

The grief of the heart.

Mason Jars and Memories


Afternoon napping, 

The smell of honey and earth

Intertwined and tea. 

Santa Fe Trails

 
Not quite memories,

This place where love was growing,

But Past met our end. 

Orion’s Belt

  
I see you each night,

But only a memory.  

A ghost of a star. 

Haiku for the Haunted

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What do you wait for?
Whispers to obsess over?
I was never yours.

The Forget Not Girl

The Forget Not Girl

I am the Forget Not Girl
I forget not
And forget never

I remember histories
Long past their memory
Some of whom’s only echo is now myth.

I am the one that holds your forgotten greats and uglies.
The ghouls and gold hidden in the darkest corner of your soul’s attic.
I hold them, so that you may walk numbly through your world.

I hold them and wait
Wait for the day you are ready to remember
Wait for the day you are ready to feel and face your truth

And should that day never come,
Then I will wait for the day you cease to be
And then I will begin the words of your legacy

For I am the Forget Not Girl
I forget not
And forget never

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To: Miss Lady

To: Miss Lady

Miss Lady,
When far away on these nights, it seems, lately, we are expected to walk the line of some illusion.
And I am expected to sing to souls
And you are expected to grow to grandness
And The Rest are there to keep score of our stumbles.

But I remember summers made by sprinting in rain storms and challenging the men-children with no hearts, till we sang “City ‘O’ City” and were happy and full on love and life and Pot De Creme.

Miss Lady,
These days, when far away, it seems we are expected to walk the line of some illusion
And I am expected to sing to souls
And you are expected to grow to grandness
And The Rest are there to keep score of our stumbles.

But I remember pretty lights made by full moons and rocks painted red. And even the Divine-ness that is Adonai, found new rooms in the mansions of our hearts, that summer.

Miss Lady,
It may seem these days we are expected to walk some line of illusion
But just like a rainbow that illusion will fade and vanish and all we will be left with is us..

And when left with only us, I will know:
That my heart has chosen to sing to souls
And you always have been and always will be grandness, no matter where your self resides at the moment.

And The Rest can go on stumbling, because they were to busy keeping score.

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