She has this place where she goes
  when she needs to be all alone.
        She calls it her place,
a place where the hurts of the world
       quiet down and fade away.
                                                
A place of beauty, where her fingertips
can paint over all the wrong
and all the pain she feels
in colors bright and cheery.

It’s a place of peace, where the fears
        of her heart slow and still…
  A place of calm, where the oceans
       of emotions lay at her feet
            and weep no more.

It’s a place where she can breathe,
where she feels sheltered, protected
from the coldness outside
of her canopy of shade… It’s her place.

                  She went to her place…..
                     ……she visits very often...

A  stiff  breeze
blowing  the  cherry  blossoms  away.
Petals  floating  into  space
like  tiny  butterflies.

Keith  Wilson.  Windermere.  UK  2017.

===========================================

O My gardener
your shadow is my best fertilizer
and you watered me with your perspiration
your sweat added me the fragrance
your hands gave me flowers
You can never die O MY Gardener
since you are always busy in the garden of life
planting more and more new seeds
and everything follows you creeping with Smile

by
~~~Jawahar Gupta~~~

Make her see
through my eyes

Make her see
the peace I'm trying to find

Make her see
further than I could ever measure

Make her see
that right now I'm blind

The beautiful scars that you have gain from the storms you have endure

Lites up your Most beautiful soul, revealing your strength through it.

Touching the Hearts of those that gain a glimpse of it and knew..

Just how much that you had to endure, with Christ Jesus help.

To see the Creator, in your chemistry connected to Him here.

The same Savior whom went to the cross for us on Calvary.

And then on the 3rd day Risen to rescue us from our Sins.

Those same scars, that hides within you were put there.

Because of the Spirit that dwells within you Protected you.

For in reality you should be dead, and in the bowels of the earth.

But you have been rescued, from death several times here.

Because he is not done with you, Praise our Savior God.

Sludge black driveways
holding hazardous mindsets.

Back of his head is made of
white canvas; red strap; yum-yum.

You can see body in the window.
Cut like a Valley Girl diamond.

Brown ***** hair, faint.
Narrow shoulders, pointed.

Brows arch like arrowhead;  
floating above callous constellations.

Snarls of smoke from his cig;
dragging filter like a conscience.

He studies her while she studies
how life looks around her neck.

Closer to midnight, says Darling.
Gotta let her live in a dream-mo.

Inside the piggy bank, gold looks
like memories 'round her nape.

Peeking into the mirror's reflect,
mouthing her name, twirling hips.

What a time to be a star; stable
inside the crown of debris.

Completely secure in nakedness,
a streak of light swims closer.

Black bear fur, harboring glittery
fleas; her eyes look out and up.

It is as close as anyone ever tried.
Non-stop destruction, seductive.

Darling says, look at her look.
He takes a picture with his phone.

**** beauty, ******* to
the assertiveness of annihilation.

Looking at the picture, he curses
himself for not upgrading.

A fire overflows, as she has
one hand on her stomach and
another on her purse.