idyllic steps
are bare
in green
make months
in golden
year the
gavotte in
her little
black dress
that the
music of
spring in
vapor of
the string
makes her
frosty as
the hills

I haven’t been truly “fine” in a long time
I’ve mastered the art of smiling
And crying when no ones around
But the mask I so carefully crafted is slowly chipping away
I’m starting to stumble over the steps in this play I put on everyday
Maybe it’s time to let the world see what happens when the curtains close and the performance ends

growing
               up
                     my dear
                                   is steps
                                               step
                                                     by step
                                                            ­     you
                                                             ­          grow
                                                            ­                at the end
                                                             ­                         of the steps
                                                           ­                                            is death

with fiery and attentive steps, our love remembers
remembers all the hours of living without
living without each other to balance life
life inhabited in the eyes of each other
other lives are covetous, of our balance.....

Brian Hill - 2020 # 213