Dusk

Whispers of prayers are spoken in the night
from inside the heart
Where and when no one hears

There are no tears
Only an island, a ship on the open ocean
a solitary bird floating on the wind

Who knows the pain
shares the grief

Is it spoken
Is it held inside

It is not like a flower that grows
But a weariness that lurks on the doorstep
keeping your senses alive in the dark

This House

Somewhere within these walls are locked
The beautiful highs and lows of a worn violin

In these walls are the whispered prayers
for many come and gone

On these floors have fallen many tears
for pains unspoken
for yearning prayers

In the air is the laughter of lovers
sharing decades of stories filled with joy,
pains...some well know
some locked away in the heart



In this ground was planted many seed
tilled many hours
grown through much love



Through this house has past much love
In this house love still grows



Tears still fall

Pains still groan

Ground still moved

Secrets still held

and best

laughter still rises

quality

I wish I could paint a picture for you
make a movie
write abook

Put it all down so
you could take it all back in
live it again

I wish I could find all the puzzle pieces
I wish I knew what the picture it is you are seeing

Really, it is not the quantity
It's the quality

The moments with you are not so vast
but they are quality

I will try and remember that
and to tell my children

purple is green

Purple is green
in my world of red

Where grief is always good
just like I said

Then you took from me,
What I was not done with

You sat it down and said "Why don't you eat a bit?"
Well, which is it?

water is candy and sweet to the tongue
milk is my tea
and juice makes me smile

But please be careful with the fan
or I shall burn till I freeze

What was your name?
Cali, Sally..oh..Kelly
I have known you a long time haven't I?
Thirty-seven years, I thought so
I love you too

my words

Can you catch the word in front of me...can you not see it there?
The letters hang on my hair, my tongue...like a cloud they float around and taunt me like a child.

They surround me like a shroud...sometimes too tight...sometimes too loose, like a cut strand of pearls...falling one by one.....

The words fight me like an enemy and hang on me like a child drowning....simultaneously.

Can you help me?
Can you raise my words from the dead,
can you bring life to them with your pen?