I am nestled in an embrace
inside the crook of your arm,
where dreams are rocking us
into lullabies, and secrets are
no longer screaming, where
the only truth is of love with
an understanding that comes
long before the sun is rising,
where we can lose ourselves
in the little things, and where
love is found inside your arms,
nestling our hearts together in
comfort and dreams, where an
embrace steals the night away.
She is the subtle color of blue
on the horizon at dusk, slight
out of center while holding the
sun in her arms, cradling her to
sleep with a lullaby of the stars;
she is the color of blue washing
up on shore with gentle kisses
along the beach, serenading the
sand in slight rhythms of waves
and ripples past dawn. She is my
color of blue illuminated off the
moon between the hours of love
and an embrace, as gentle as the
night and fierce as the waves, she
carries my love through all shades
of life, whispering sonnets in blue.
At the edge of the world,
where the sun is falling to
the ground, and the horizon
is only a meeting place for
two hearts at dawn and dusk;
where the tree line trembles
with every brisk kiss before
the rays converge in one last
embrace, soothing the earth
in love and redemption – we
are two hearts of an opposite
nature, grasping at the roots
for any chance with the other,
knowing our love to be true
like a guarantee of the rising
sun, we meet at the horizon.
Underneath the light
of a three quarter moon,
watching the plains drift
beneath the stars, set to a
soothing rhythm of your
whispers against the night
stained glass, venturing
down the highway under
the warm embrace of the
moon – you and I are love;
traveling with two beating
hearts as the radio, set to
the rocking motion of the
lighted night sky, searching
past the horizon for home.
Take me back to the sun
peeking through the clouds
against a backdrop of the
mountain side, with shades
of green becoming a warm
embrace as the breezes are
bouncing between ridges
beckoning us to play; take
me back to the mountains
with my love by my side,
wandering the lands where
the trails and foothills meet,
hand in hand waiting for the
moon and stars to rise – take
me home to the mountain side.
I crave lines of poetry
on sides of mountains,
where I can bury them
under the stars into the
untouched ground and
blend them to ash and
soft charcoal; watching
verses sprout onwards
in and among the trees,
and kissing creeks, with
a delicate brush across
mountain tops in time for
the setting sun to whisper
goodnight, and then recite.
I was caught between
daydreams and sonnets,
in the loose reflections
off the western skyline,
watching the mountains
soothe me into a lullaby
I’ve heard twice before –
when nights were always
cooler without the glow
from the moon caressing
the mountain side, and
days were lined like the
inside of stars, caught
between the horizons
searching for home.
As silent as a rose,
left to the sun in the
hours of spring, with
light echoes from the
trees rustling against
thoughts as though
there was only ever a
chance at happiness,
ready to fade out in
the days of summer;
you are silence left
at daybreak, a single
chill in the air when
the days are shifting,
holding onto a fear of
what change will bring.
I once danced
with the moon,
a tango at dusk,
with whiskey on
the horizon and
jazz on repeat –
the stars in awe,
with our hearts
gliding in time
to rhythms past
twilight, waiting
until the sun rises
to finally catch a
breath with the
morning breeze.
Let the summer burn,
engulfed in the heated
days of second chance
and recovery; leave the
fallen ashes at my feet,
where I can stomp them
from memory into the
shaken ground and bury
them beneath my heart,
allow me to look in your
eyes, gently mapping out
the future as though there
were still constellations
left to name, and let the
smoke that still rises from
our fallen past, part with
the turning tides of the
wind, whispering leftover
promises with every flick
of the flame – still burning.
Storylines in Verse 