Winds lift bamboo
like brushes painting air
peach blossoms flurry
to fill a moment with pink and white,
like snow and butterflies
a sudden season at odds with itself
strikes a note of beauty.
Words tumble, I lean to hear
then you are silence behind a closed door,
a mystery in hiding, yet wonder- could we
sharing words, salt grains of love and pain, be
in more discord than a rain of petals
Perhaps lost amidst moon and shadow
or found in an eclipse of fluttered eyes
graze like some soft wings of summer
I would speak softly in breaths of calm
recall heart memories, to invite
the healing powers of touch.
No comments:
Post a Comment