Sun Kissed Days

Sun Kissed Days

Tuesday, March 24, 2015

The beauty that is life



The leaf bathes
in the morning light,
floating with grace and beauty.
The geese
welcomed new life today.
The trees whispered 
of spring as I walked by.
At dawn I listened
to him breathing.
The moment magnified
by it's simplicity,
by the truth
of the beauty that life is.
He is the one
the dog followed home,
he kept him and made him his own,
protected and loved him
to the end.
He is the son that held his mother
as she shook with chemo
and life.
He is the one
that delights in a screeching reel
and the cat that follows him to the lake.
He is the one that feeds the squirrels
and thinks to buy a cup of joe
for the crossing guard.
He is the one with fire
in his veins.
He is the one that holds me
when the day is dark
and I feel empty.
He looks into my eyes
and sees my soul.
He is the one.

Tuesday, March 17, 2015

My beloved and the wind


The light penetrated through the clouds,
I watched fireflies entangled in a dance.
The blue Jay jeered attempting
to distract me
and the hawks.
The wind silently
caressed my face.
If tomorrow does not come
and I don't lay in your arms once again
or roll in the sand,
drink the moon on an evening of poetry
and love
lights twinkling in our eyes.
If tomorrow does not come,
and I don't touch the dew on the grass 
at daybreak,
or I may not touch the edges of a book
cutting my skin and soul
as I linger and kiss your neck,
if tomorrow does not come
I would have had enough
because you had loved me.

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Forgiveness and The Long Way Home


I had a red shinny tricycle,
but never a bicycle.
I dreamt of riding free,
in a yellow lemon dress,
flying down the hill
with the wind caressing my hair.
Dad feared I would fall
and I would hurt myself.
So I didn't fly until years later,
when I ran away,
no longer accepting to be sheltered
from the storms of life.
I left with a plane ticket,
the clothes on my back,
and a dream in my eyes.
My purse stuffed with family photographs
that I treasured,
memories of what I was leaving behind.
No money
or plans,
the man sitting next to me spoke
about pre Colombian  art,
puzzled, he watched the stars in my eyes.
My life was waiting,
forbidden love,
youth, brilliant and reckless.
Seduced by a freedom fighter,
not knowing he worshiped methadone,
hidden away in the refrigerator.
When John Lennon was shot
I still believed in the change that never came.
I battled his demons
and lost.
Broken dreams and promises.
I woke up one day and walked
away with my soul battered
but not defeated.
I walked away 
and opened new doors
and dreamt new dreams
fire in my soul
the wind on my back.