half heard voices ~

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Perhaps I’m getting younger.still

I can’t help but notice that at a time when it seems many of my friends are complaining about a loss of memories, I’m finding them.

Last week, I awoke and lay in bed remembering other dreams the same as they would have been years ago, before the heat of day wore them down. Only now, I’m remembering details not as dreams, but as memories. The dreams have become rooted in other dreams, and in pieces of reality – even reality that might have seemed unimportant or transparent before.

I’m not sure of the reasons. Could be a bad bowl of banana pudding or some exceptionally strong nail polish (beauty’s best). I’m perplexed, and intrigued. I only know it is happening, and I’m aware and unafraid of knowing (or not).

Threads once thought to have no meaning are weaved into others, the truth becoming more than one shade of scarlet.

carry me
the only way
on roads you keep
so well
let me sleep
til morning
shakes your faith
in the story
I been telling
of where the sun awaits
and where the trees are bent
beneath the night
my fate
is all but written
by the movement
of your hands
a chapter more (or less)
is free enough
city lights
are faded
tho wing’ed lanterns rise
out beyond the reach
of will and luck
beyond the plans
of where we’d be -
it hardly matters now
just let me wake
remembering
your touch

. . .

gift ~

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keepmehere

lines -
no more
than a memory crossed
a moment made rare
by the living
the slightest allowance
of light touching light
eternity held
(a breath)
between sighs

offered
you back
as a gift
unexpected
a version of story
(was glory) divine
all I was meant
a place on your going
sweet mountain laurel
– soft southern
skies

. . .

habits ~

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sweetly

sleepy threads
and coffee makes
a story out of nothing
but rings
where I’ve forgotten
who was sleeping
by my side

habits shared
and graces
have a way
of getting older
a sweet caress
is sometimes best
denied

morning keeps
her secrets well
and no one knows to talk
of shadows come
and who is left
to say

passion wears
a flannel gown
and takes her comforts
slow

fingers trace
the memory
of stay

. . .

into falling ~

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proof

a length of thread
worn golden here -
laced and stitched
and braided
as endless as the summers
gone before
were truths
already taken -
lie awake
we come again

backwards into falling
morning dreams

are hastened
by the twilight -
frosted with the dew
a fleeting kiss
where breath forgot to take
our name as taste
to autumn lips -
nights we lingered so
above the place
remembered
to our soul

caught in spells
of once I was -
and begged me not to go
beyond the break
of love
into a word I couldn’t say -
a time we passed
along and still
looking for today
a fortune green
of four leaf kind
stars betrayed our realm

crossed and back
returning
to begin

. . .

familiar stars ~

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homeIknowforstill

in places
I am felt the same
by friend
the autumn red
in dreams
I am
no different
for ways by which
I came
my hand is held
beneath familiar stars
time
is not yet folded
sheets are not yet dry
the sun is there
and all the children
mine
paradise
or what you say
of promises
we kept
never meant
this sacred door
to close
breezes blow
from just beyond
the reach of circumstance
calls to me
another name
I know

. . .

unfurling ~

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asyouwish

of but one
my soul remembers
let me sing
a tender song
let my voice
be heard by angels

above this only
mortal drum

as words untouched
in silence
holy -
catching verse
upon the wind
be as strength
my wings unfurling -

teach my heart
to soar
again

. . .

heart into blossom ~

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octobersmine

what of days
are poems penned
clinging to me now
at the edge of dreams
a somewhere unknown
is sweeter for lives
left scattered
between

the first of beginning
as the last one
to leave

tho separate
our living
as ink unto page
knowing another
would carry us still
unaware of our passing
from day into light
as heart into
blossom -
breath into seed

fell from an orchard
which bloomed
in the dark
where hands waited softly
to be empty
again

. . .

as the sparrows ~

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returning me

take of me
my sacred breath
cleave from me
your song
dare the fates
to barter
with my kiss

lean into
my winter light
of longing unconfessed
sit the night
beside me
in the dark

worry not
beyond this dawn
to another only time -
where I am
as the sparrows
nestled in the pines

take of me
these stories
so they become
your own
a longer way
for coming back -
returning you
to home

wear me
into autumn
where’er the wild geese
sail

silver arrows
dusted by the clouds

. . .

telling retold ~

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foralways
i sit in the worn out
silence of day
as close
the soul touches
on moments so dear

as one
now another
still they remain
no different
heaven
was given us
here

a telling retold
by the burden
of truth
down through the places
as graces
divine

recalled us
remembered
as essence of home
light without imprint
of time

. . .

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