I remember standing at the end of the bed
Feeling safe and sound
Not a noise in the house
You pulled me in to your arms
We stood there still but strong
How did everything go so wrong

Those who don't go with the wind
Will be shaped by it
Their blood will be waves
Their minds will be canyons
They will be shaped to a fertile and forgiving landscape
So that those who get carried by the wind
Will have a safe place to land

(a story in Senryus)

Dew gently pools on
the rich green Bermuda blades
of suburban lawns.

Walking across grass
soaks your shoes like a splashing
child in a puddle.

Your passage diagrammed,
by wet, green tracks that trace your
path like ****** snow.

Proof you were here, real,
a charming gift watched through chaste
glass - that made me cry.

The lighthouse stands firm
Guiding me to safe waters
Anchoring my heart.

Growing up
means realizing
that sometimes
you hurt others
unintentionally
in an attempt
to save yourself
from that first