i allow the
fog
of slow running
bathwater
to enfold
me
like a tongue with
sultry plans,
on a dried out
day
with no aims beyond
this soak.
mindfulness
last leaf on
a tree,
the last to shun
its destiny
of touching
down..
of kissing
ground..
of accepting what
shall be.
symphony of
a rose
fleeting on
summer’s breath,
first frost upon
the meadow,
flower’s echo but
the shadow
of seasonal
unrest.
a cascade of crystals
lit your eyes
when the sun
locked its
gaze
on your skin
like tissue
paper,
deeply creased from
well lived
days.
walls of this room
wept
with each
share
of members clasped
in a mutual
embrace
transcending human
language and
fear,
oh these walls
shed tears.
you’d always held
such value,
i’d never loved
so deep
before,
but that added touch
of kindness
was the gift that
made you
more.
i’d swap this
thought
for a little inward
space
to
invade-
to never find my
way back
into
human mind,
getting
lost–
at a loss
again.
a sudden breeze
tips the
candle
sending its spark
spilling
onto kitchen
table..
consuming remnants
of a letter
i never seem to
complete.
i’ve softened
little
since the
news
you left before
your time,
but have settled
into the new
“normal“
and sense you
within me
now.
in
silence
our needs are
met
and within its solace
rings the voice
of truth.
hands in the garden 
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