Our love is punctuated
When language becomes a word
For our bickering spirits.
We are two birds
Beating our wings
Against the others’ wind.
Tag: Nature
Waiting
What of your wine have I taken,
If never I your stem have shaken?
I’d wait till you’d for reasons sway,
Be it even … angrily,
And drops traced your petaled lip,
Leaving little to let one sip.
She would fly
Holds her petals firm,
And for moments they flutter,
Not flight, no, they fall.
17 days
Were you to walk these streets,
Your sigh would scatter seeds,
Little dreamy pebbles sent
To take the place that’s mortar meant.
So when a town is overgrown,
By branch and petal taken down,
I’ll know where your spirits walk,
And I’ll know with whom to talk.
After 15
I have walked among the clouds,
And where are they now?
There is no welcome to the sky,
That isn’t whispered in your sigh.
14th
Had I been ready to pray,
When we sat beneath the oak,
What would have I to say,
If I hadn’t listened to these folk.
It’s not that careless I came,
Or that my spirit’s stern,
But nothing is the same
When I hear the oak and fern.
Day 10
I’d often think that fireflies
Would drink beyond their means,
Stuttering aloft this canopy
Spilling sips of revelry.
9 days
A setting sun sheds it’s colour,
Beneath timid summer leaves.
As winds would shy past shutters,
Wooded souls swayed warm and dreamed.
The fourth day
I whisper as one, another,
Who was left with little cover.
I saw the blooms of shiver cast,
Infant petals, not one the last.
Just before the wind had left
This wood had days not so bereft.
With all the thickets swaying bare…
This little bloom sways so fair.
Your Youth
What is your youth,
Purity? Memory? Wisdom?
Is it such a secret
that all the world will
sway for you?
Your shyness fetters even
the last ice into Springs
Excitement,
As winters solitude blushes
In the face of your youth.
ahorsealone 
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