This year for your birthday,
I had wished to grab hold
of the stars, sewing them
together, creating a blanket
to warm you on the coldest
of nights, seeing as you no
longer seek out my embrace,
or climb to the top of the
mountains west past Boulder,
standing on the peak picking
enough of the clouds to make
a pillow for you to fall fast
asleep, seeing as you haven’t
my arms to rock you soundly,
or fill a pool with waters
from Bermuda, so if ever you
are feeling lost, you’ll have
an escape to swim to when you
think you can’t still come to me;
but sadly, I have only my mere
words, and I shall have to
hope it’ll be enough to convey
all the thoughts I haven’t yet
said, past – happy birthday.

Like Father…

I once asked my father
to dance around the living
room with me, my feet on
his as he twirled me around
the laughs and giggles filling
the room in colors of gold –
myself in a sun dress of white,
a flower and ribbons in my hair,
stepping on his cowboy boots
I remember far better on my
feet than his own. It was a
bliss that only comes in ages;
twice in memory, only once in
the presence of beauty bound.
A foreshadowing of the day
when I can embrace him and
give thanks for taking my
hand to give to another, and
allowing me to follow my heart
to grow up, to be like him.


A blue moon is casting
shadows on us tomorrow
night, sweet darling.
I hope that when you
gaze up towards the
sky, you’ll see my
reflection whispering
that it was all for
you on your birthday,
because distance is
the only thing you
asked for this year.