You were a woman of soft grey
skirts and glasses; a little boy in tow at
the place that we met.
As the years pounded by, you became
my pasture of Heaven and my honeysuckle friend.
Your waterfall love washed over me.
It cleansed me like a violet stream,
dappled by the leaves on
the cottonwood trees.

Once I dreamed that we flew together on
the back of a bluebird and laughed until
our jaws ached, and we ate honeydew until the
juice ran down our face and dripped onto
the bird's wings.

But we always wake from dreams,
and birds fly away and build nests;
yet, I know that the light which shines
through you; that exudes from your soul
will always be my heat and my feather.

It was not dying to the life, sleep,

so one can be reborn in the morn’.
  
As we inhale, aspire, we exhale, inspire,

the breath of life is spiritual.

So too, to awake is as a promise

we made before we were born,



to be life.  It is, this new day

is given to be anew.

Awakened newly to the world,

which has also evolved in it’s newness.  

It's for us to find and be what it is

to be this new day.

Sometimes
You don't want
To be the strong one
The one that holds it all
Together

Strong, fierce and beautiful
Your every day mantra

And you are, darling.
There is no doubt.

But sometimes
You just want
To be held
And be told that everything
Will be okay

That you don't have
To conquer the world
All by yourself

That showing weakness
Can be strength