This Woman is a Poem

This woman is a song

her voice plays a gentle sound

with no more a pleasant syllable

to ever pass me.

This woman is a poem

her movements a graceful meter

with such soothing articulations

I read her thin lines out loud.

This woman is a flower

her passions blooming

with effortless substance

and quiet grace.

Though she won’t know

my words are for her,

I whistle her tune

I recite her lines

I cherish her petals…

and oh when I see her,

how I smile

at all this woman is to me

yes this woman,

she is a poem.

I hope she knows.

Only a Moment

Don’t give up

for sometimes,

on a blue hammock under green trees

under a warm blanket of bird tweets

owl hoots

and cricket chirps,

I can touch peace

ever so lightly –

with just my finger tips.

Please be brave

because occasionally,

in a calm bath

listening to slow piano

under red lights

I can feel serenity,

she is weightless

soundless –

kind to me.

Reflect in that possibility

the eternal chance

to touch a peace

feel a serenity

and be truly

completely

empty –

If only for a moment.

Mirage of a Bluebird

There was a time

I experienced you in everything:

I saw your face in floating clouds

I smelled your clothes in spring gardens

I tasted your lips in every sugary summer cocktail.

Now,

the presence of you

has washed off of my world,

for the most part that is

but every once in awhile…

like a man dying of thirst sees an open oasis,

I too see a mirage

so occasionally…

I rub a flower’s petals in my fingers

suddenly feeling your golden hair

flowing through my fingers again.

Or maybe I see a majestic horse

it’s muscles rippling in a full gallop

reminding me of how fierce you were.

So during these long days that I spend

learning the chasms of my mind

and mapping a new found independence

I maintain my distance from you

giving you complete space,

which hopefully,

soothes the scars

on your already worn heart.

but don’t you ever think

for even a single moment,

that I stopped cherishing those times

or believing in what you can accomplish:

you’ll still change the world

you’ll still heal the broken

just with a greater sense of peace now

for my most genuine apology:

is my absence

my last love poem:

is the peaceful whisper of a gentle ‘goodbye’

in the ear of those passing mirages

(whenever they come around).