I’ve been away…

I’ve been away

but not really…

Like the sound of

a guitar years after

it’s been played,

embedded in the

grains of it’s body.

Maybe like the house

that is never a home,

a garden that is

never planted,

But yet here we are

in the midst of spring again…

growing from the death

of winter…

I’ve been away

but not really


A Silent Orchard

you may
but here
we stand
will bloom
in fragrant
the snow

20140130-190240.jpgToday, reminding me, without winter no spring. A body with seasons of change

Winter Wine

The first trace
of snow,
falls like stars
silently in the night,
and onto my bed,
like an old soft
memory of love.
The coolness
touches my skin,
and my lips
turn rosy like wine,
your body, melting
into my warmth.
With weightless words,
my breath
pushes them forward,
as yours gently
pulls them back…
Back to this soft
memory of love,
where we glisten
like stars sharing wine,
in the first traces of snow.