without you...

Without you, the ground thaws, the rain falls, the grass grows.
Without you, the seeds root, the flowers bloom, the children play.
The stars gleam, the poets dream, the eagles fly, without you.
The earth turns, the sun burns, but I die, without you.
Without you, the breeze warms, the girl smiles, the cloud moves.
Without you, the tides change, the boys run, the oceans crash.
The crowds roar, the days soar, the babies cry, without you.
The moon glows, the river flows, but I die, without you.

You Wear Your Beauty Soft

Angel,

You wear your beauty soft. 

There are moths that drink the tears of sleeping birds. 

I imagine that the birds must dream of the fluttering of dusted wings,
of hovering angels that kiss their eyelids with lips that barely touch. 
Tears and kisses stolen in the dark.

You wear your beauty soft.

And in sleep and in dreams of Angels and wings and dust
In dreams of kisses and tears and fluttering of wings
Your beauty steals my heart.

You wear your beauty soft.

The flight of the barn owl is silent.

I imagine an owl in the dark, swooping just overhead, unheard
It’s presence felt like the passing of a ghost, a weight on the skin and raising of fine hairs
Wing spread in flight, held aloft like magic.

You wear your beauty soft.

And from you, your beauty takes silent flight

It fills rooms and presses upon my skin, fine hairs raised.
You are magic.

You wear your beauty soft.

Just me.

 

 

Sleep and Waking...

Angel,


I lay in bed at night and imagine you in yours. I imagine your head cradled in the crook of your arm, wild curls all asplay, the sound of your breathing and your scent filling the room.


I wonder if you will drift and sleep and dreams will come easily, stealing in silent as mist to transport you to other worlds. I wonder if it will be a night where sleep is evasive and you toss, wrestling with your thoughts and the sheets, the night stretching out long before you.


I lay thinking about the morning and how you will wake... a change in breath and the fluttering of eyelids - a sigh and a turning cat like stretch. I wonder if you long to sink yourself further under the covers and to drift just a little longer.


I wonder what it would be like to be beside you... would I bring you comfort and happiness... to hear your breathing and feel the weight of you in the bed... to be filled by your scent and the press of your back to my chest... to hold magic in the early morning of a dark bed...


I imagine waking up beside you and know what a piece of heaven must be like...


The Man in the Station