Flowers in full bloom
Brighten the day of the bee
So I stay inside
"Poetry is the music of the soul, and, above all, of great and feeling souls." - Voltaire
Preemie
The sun beamed down
before you took your first breath.
My shaking hands gently took yours
The soft flutter of your pulse
Flapping against your wrist
As I looked at my paper doll girl.
I was afraid to crumble your bones with the gentlest kiss,
Afraid you'd fold right through my fingertips.
Nonetheless my heart reached out to encompass you.
You learned to flirt before you could walk
With death as your bachelor of choice.
The slow beeps of your heart giving hints to his presence
As he lays down beside your incubator cell.
I miss you when you sneak out at night
But I pray you'll come back to me.
Time and again. Beat by beat.
before you took your first breath.
My shaking hands gently took yours
The soft flutter of your pulse
Flapping against your wrist
As I looked at my paper doll girl.
I was afraid to crumble your bones with the gentlest kiss,
Afraid you'd fold right through my fingertips.
Nonetheless my heart reached out to encompass you.
You learned to flirt before you could walk
With death as your bachelor of choice.
The slow beeps of your heart giving hints to his presence
As he lays down beside your incubator cell.
I miss you when you sneak out at night
But I pray you'll come back to me.
Time and again. Beat by beat.
-Updated 5/8/18
Sleep
The snap of twig against twig
lent music to the hushed night
as the birds rested their voices
for tomorrow.
They whispered for me to rise and sing,
to join their night time orchestra
on the star spangled stage.
To dance my bow across the strings of the violin,
Like shooting stars across the black abyss.
To beat the melody of gravity against the drum of the earth.
To twirl in the rays of the moon.
But my blanket held me captive in its tangles
and my feathered pillow drowned their call.
And sleep locked the door.
-Updated 5/3/18
lent music to the hushed night
as the birds rested their voices
for tomorrow.
They whispered for me to rise and sing,
to join their night time orchestra
on the star spangled stage.
To dance my bow across the strings of the violin,
Like shooting stars across the black abyss.
To beat the melody of gravity against the drum of the earth.
To twirl in the rays of the moon.
But my blanket held me captive in its tangles
and my feathered pillow drowned their call.
And sleep locked the door.
-Updated 5/3/18
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