No One Knows

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No one really knows the face

behind the garden gates, but

she smiles when the sun holds

her gaze. Eyes of ancient wonder

sing notes of blue upon the garden.

And when the leaves of fall crown her

gold, she holds it like it’s the last

she’ll ever know. Colors die,

cold creeps in, fades her into stone.

The flowers and sun betray her light.

She becomes invisible again.

where is he now? (for Anthony)

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where is he now
the gardener of souls?
his “good morning” silent,
cardinals wonder why
sun, looking for a reason
summer holding on,
flowers broken without his songs
the gardener of souls
where is he now?

 

Dreams from You

You appear every night in my dreams,

your hand out, leading me to gardens

of color and scent that float like music.

I twirl around, twist flowers in my hair,

and you smile, as if you know I belong

in this place that you dreamed for me.

And when we lie on a bed of wildflowers,

you take my hand in yours, and the stars

pour into the night sky.  It takes my breath

away, but you catch it and set it back

gently on my lips. I feel every flower,

every star, every breath you dreamed

for me. The night is cold, but your arms

are warm, and peace settles all around.

I wake to find it has gone; cold has returned.

All day I smell flowers and wait for you.

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Butterfly Garden

The blooms dotted the green bushes in colors

only summer could dream, blends of yellow,

orange, pink, and red.  They lulled me

with their sweetness, and I hovered there

in the stillness, as butterflies descended

on to the splendid blooms.  They drifted all

around me, each one painted with her own

enchanting pattern, her own combination of colors.

They were summers snowflakes, each perfectly

different, as they drifted in the sweet breeze

of summer and floated among blooms.  Sun

pushed down with summers heaviness, and

I waited to see two butterflies that matched,

in color and pattern.  Those flowers flooded

in June colors boasted more fluttering beauty

than I could have imagined before that day, and yet

it stays with me that there were no pairs, no

connections.  They all flew alone.