my muse

Thirty-Seven.

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Past the reflections
of the window pane,
billowing slightly in
the soften breezes of
the neighboring trees,
harboring heart aches
in disguises of hope
hardened with truth;
past the melodies of
the wildflowers long
ago blooming on the
horizon, with laughter
circling like butterflies
in early June, there is
a moment trapped in
the smile of a memory,
recaptured with every
look out my window,
to the glory days of
you and I – back when
there was still such a
thing to look back on;
past the reflections of
regrets and what ifs.

LV Letters – Two

Posted on by Amber S Morse

In every shade of blue,
I see the reflection of the
stars whispering songs
of sonnets against your
eyelashes, in time to the
fallen beats of a trumpet
and her sax, mixing love
with jazz and the sight of
rain in the horizon; with
every variant and in every
direction, I am the brush
swirling together a lifetime
of words and promises,
waiting for you to notice.

Thirty-Eight

Posted on by Amber S Morse

with the echoing of jazz
past the crisp autumn air
falling into the rhythm of
leaves dancing sonnets
to the ground; with beats
of percussions and lonely
hearts holding on to stars
in the earliest hours of the
morning, waiting in sought
after transition of the sun –
still smiling albeit curious,
with the rise and eminent
fall of indecision, breaking
daylight with every peak of
hesitation and whispering
echoes of jazz, only to fall.

Reflections in Blue

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Painted against the glass
in concrete memories of blue,
where a laugh and a whisper
could collide in a gentle sigh
drifting deeply into the night
behind the smile in your eyes;
where the traces of the moon
are light brushes of my fingers
against your ever warming skin,
I kissed your lips and whispered
that I still loved you – the first
time in months those words fell
from my lips, but always circling
my heart. With a look back at the
portrait painted in glass, two lovers
hand in hand, leaning into the other’s
sigh, with an escape of the moon,
circling us in love and in blue.

LV Letters – One

Posted on by Amber S Morse

In between days of returning
to home, and wishful thinking
I kissed her cheek and felt her
sigh shiver down my spine as she
had her arms around me, only to
be absorbed by the concrete – or
perhaps it still hasn’t left me; a
slight shiver bouncing from my
memories and hopeful dreams.
She is always with me, a slight
burn of her fingertips as she
pulled away, leaving the best
kind of scars, only left to be
kissed away in the pending rain.

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.

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.

Thirty-Five

Posted on by Amber S Morse

It was only a whisper
heard amongst the soft
echoing of the crickets in
late August, past the tender
rays of the full orange sun
setting past the treeline, still
dancing among the clouds
in the early hours of evening,
yet I heard it – it was calling
out to me, so all I could do
was answer with a whisper
of my own. It was like the
early days of back and forth,
playing hide and seek in
messages, with shards and
pieces of silence laying broken,
shattered by the light breezes
falling on an autumn dusk.

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.