Fly

Dreams imagined…
Rays like that of sweet translucent honey,
Spun through the shadows of my emotions.
My mind is a soft spring moss,
Velvet, cool with morning dew.
In it the hushed comfort of my solitude
Lulls me to repose.
A spirit unlike most…
Distinguished; rich in love,
Like a gentle hand outstretched,
Mending a broken wing of the delicate sparrow.
With it I fly freely now,
And we join together,
Blended in the warmth of our being,
Once alone…

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Woven

Firm hands, palms warm reassuring
Their fingers intertwined, the boy gripping handlebars
A father’s shadow comforting apprehension
They are challenged together…
Yet a trust constant remains

Late winter, the crocus blooms
So short a life; springtime ends
A broad chest, arms extending, the boy rests his head
Life will pass, steadfast love remains…
An intricate love, woven most delicately

Ignorance and fear separates them
Yet only in body do they stand apart
The boy senses; his father knows
Even in death, their spirits remain together…
The bond lasting and true, that of father and son

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Emerging…

He knows not of the nightingale,
her song a rich mellow call;
she darts into the privacy of her secluded thicket…

He knows not of this secret place
where she gathers in thought,
where it assuages her thirst;
a dripping ripe peach spilling its nectar
over every part of her being…

He knows not of her burst into flight,
and yet…
she will take him with her,
thoughts once separate,
now converged…
a rapture, laid bare…