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Curious.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I saw you everywhere I looked,
from the carvings of the base of
the trees to the butterflies floating
from wildflower to wildflower,
knowing that they had the exact
same spirit I came to love, in you.
I saw you in the sun coming in
through the tree line, bouncing
reflections off the boulders and
helping guide my path. You are
whispering in the breeze, calling
out hope, because that is the only
thing I have left to hold onto; and
I felt you in the breeze as I reached
the top of the summit, knowing you
were wrapping yourself around me.
I still see you in everything, I only
wonder where you still find me.

Thirty-Six.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Somewhere along the trail, I
left my heart in the mountains;
rooted deeply between a broken
boulder and a stream of yellow
wildflowers, growing in patches
of the rising sun between trees
sprouted in a soil of hope and
abundant harmony. I planted
my heart, in the simplest of
desires that you would be the
one to go back and find it, half
buried in the shadows on the
western side of the mountain
calling out to you. I am in love,
somewhere between breezes
and the boulders; all that’s left
is for you to come find me.

Going Home.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

my feet had finally touched
the soil I had been longing
for, these past two years, and
yet – this didn’t quite feel like
home anymore. after all the
planning, reminiscing, and the
bribing past love and devotion,
this wasn’t the landscape of
my dreams anymore, for my
only true home, is with you.

Insight Four.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I could still see the reflection
of my lips whispering words
of love in the light of your eyes,
with every shiver against my
touch trailing down your arm
to find where two hearts were
beating out loud promises of
a new ending, an echo of what
was always and would always
be, even if ignored – it was the
reflection of my words in your
eyes as you turned to leave; I
wouldn’t have heard you whisper
if I hadn’t been saying the same.

Shadows.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

between whispers and sonnets
we could cover the landscape of
the moon, carving out milestones
in memories and gentle lullabies
swaying in-between constellations,
fragments of stars and promises.
together we can illuminate the sky
past dusk, with hope just on the
horizon and a laughter of colorful
verse to lighten the darkness; with
each other hand in hand, we can
create the crevices of the moon to
hold our secrets, until we can find
the words to wish onto the world.

A New Story.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We were alternating
writing chapters of our
story; yours were always
longer, while I was rushing
to get to the finish, trying to
figure out how it all ends, and
you were right – I was missing
all of the little things, details on
the page, not stopping to take a
breath with every little change
in verse. You said it was time
for us to rewrite our chapters
separately, and then you left.
I hadn’t any idea on how to
start, except to take a deep
breath, and to try detailing
out every memory that I
was missing out on in
your absence – filling
pages with chapters
of what I hoped
would turn into
a new middle,
not a fantasy
about our
ending.

Morning Reflections.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Ever so silently, I crept into
the blanket of stars last night,
hoping for their gentle embrace
as I longed to be near the moon,
casting wishes on tomorrow and
singing alongside the breeze that
only comes at twilight; rocking so
soundly to the whistle of trees
below, hopping from dream to
dream with every newly fallen
star, and realizing too quickly
the sun would rise, and I’d be
falling from grace, without a
gentle kiss from the moon to
guide me into my day, and so
deftly I cried – a dewy mist on
morning grass, left as a promise
that I had been thinking of you.

Flying by.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

It was one of those lazy
Sunday afternoons, with
the reflections of the sun
glistening off the ripples
of the bay, showcasing
all of the answers to the
questions I never thought
to ask, with the laughter
of the children echoing past
my daydreams, when I saw
the first butterfly of this lost
season floating by me – it
was innocent and endearing;
promising to the new one
ahead. I tried to grab hold,
but like change it was quite
unpredictable, yet always
eager for us to take notice.

Relief

Posted on by Amber S Morse

If I could graffiti the sides
of all the buildings on your
daily route, I’d paint only in
shades of gray so you’d
understand just how many
ways I can think of you, and
dream of the days between
longing and love; how with
every variation of my paint
and sonnet, I was believing
in the sunset falling over the
crevice of the moon, reliving
the first memory of that eve
of the two of us as we painted
the sunrise in shades of blues,
predicting the future of how
many ways we could fall, never
thinking twice about defeat.

In Direction

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I used to have a guided path
but my light burned out moons
ago, and I haven’t a match to
spark an idea – so I continue
walking, hoping for help from
the falling stars to hold my hand.
The terrain is rough and battered,
but my feet are worn in, so I take
one step, then one more and just
continue walking, waiting to cross
paths with another – holding onto
the idea, that they’ll have a light
to help me find my way home.