Life feels heavy —
as if I lack the strength to carry on.
Loneliness demands it so;
I've grown used to fleeing from what's real.

I watch others live their love-filled lives —
but it's never enough.
My body aches for it,
and so does my soul — to love, to be loved.

Yet still, a spark glows deep within,
flowers bloom in my heart,
whispering softly:
Spring is near.

And the scent of those blossoms —
it reminds me of you.
I think we fit, like verses in rhyme —
have you ever felt it too,
when you looked at us from the outside?

I saw you first from afar —
one glance, and my heart was already racing.
I fell for your eyes right then and there,
on M.M. Street, number twenty-seven.

I took a photo of that moment,
the place where we first met —
it still lives in my gallery.
And maybe, one day,
if I write a song,
I’ll make it the art cover — meaningful and true.

Since you,
everything around me has blossomed —
flowers in my chest,
butterflies in my stomach,
seeds of something new scattered everywhere.

If Spinoza had seen you,
he wouldn’t say “God is in all,”
but rather, “God is only in you.”

I want you to want me,
the way I want you —
with all the love I've yet to give.

They hated the snow she provided them
So they can build their snowmen.
They angered her, so she froze them in,
And they wished and prayed for the sun again.

She brought them light and butterflies
To hush their mouths and halt their cries.
They asked for roses, beets, and tangerines.
She cried to grow their floral dreams.

Her tears halted their outside time,
So they begged and asked for more sunlight.
She stopped her tears and obeyed their request,
And brought bees, fireflies, and sweat.

The flowers she brought gave them flus.
The bees she gave stung them blue.
The sun scorched and burned their skin,
So they begged and begged for the cold again.

She blew wind to cool them off.
She showed colors of brown and apricot.
She left leaves and pinecones around their house,
But they raked them up and threw them out.

They angered her, so she froze them in,
With hopes to never see them again!
She did everything they requested,
But they hated her no matter what she did.

I am a cherry blossom in the breeze
facing the bright blue sky with glee.
My petals dance in morning bliss
with the butterflies flying free.

near the weeping
cherry blossom tree -
a child's laughter

Long shadows sandwiched between a biting breeze and a not quite wet damp black tarmac.

The end of colour intense time, echoing summer and spring's past,
pulling eyes to the grey mute hues of sky and tree.
A subdued stating of its intent to last.

Year-end approaches, celebration looms, competing the grey with a triumph that brings change towards gentler tones.
And a lightness,
seemingly lost in the yearly cycle.

The scent of spring once hidden beneath the diminishing decay of autumn and winter's contribution brings a bright hope forecasting a weathered change.

The beat of the yearly cycle quickens adding strength and tempo to my own hearts quickening with a prospect of longer days.

I thought I was your captive
Like being struck through the heart, like lightning, like time
That rises away
Past a roof
And slips across
A higher landscape,
A different neighborhood

A silence that exists only in small noises
The humming of birds, the beach, the buzzing of the sea
The luminescence of another world,
the beat of the heart,
dawn and evening;
falling silent snow.

If any of these sounds open
Do they become roads
Become flowers
Behind walls
That seize the original heart
through some alternate pathway, via some underground stream

Night opens
Like stars
And that
Which is like
The sky
Between you and me
Songs of April
Songs of May