I see the sun differently
now that darkness has passed...

My shoulders can not carry another load
this body was not designed for such burden...

They tell me.....
I'll be writing her final stanza soon...

I collect dimples and cracked smiles
so my pockets remain full of sunlight...

She sprouted daffodils under the sun,
tiny hands adorned in dirt labeled...

Sometimes,
Trees close their eyes...

I write in spirals of color
imagination follows in formation...

Melody speaks beyond the trees
Yearning for her spirit to sing...

Tell me numbers
mixed with riddles...

Upon a summer crossing
I lay my weary head to rest...

Things can't be explained in the dark
when these old eyes sting from crying...

Silouetted tip toes hush
crossed a threshold of invitation...