A writer’s heart

A writer’s heart beats best by the sea, The space filling the spaces in between words Forged by smiths with ancestral tools, Writing like a fool in the wilderness, The wildness of it all, A writer’s heart. It’s never contained in a classroom, It plays the piano silently, Crawls all over papers like a huge

All mine

Girl now you made it All your successes are yours alone All your losses are yours alone Inside you what was empty is now full of life, Your shadow no longer crying to eclipse the light, All mixed together by a child’s fingers. Good girl, bad girl, girl…. Now you made it. You made it

17

If you could do it all again with all that strength going to waste, steady feet, clean teeth, hands full of flowers to buy the best years of your life, your teas on the way…. eyes unseeing… If you could do it all again – big deal, so what? Shining in the dirt, pressed against

Handsome

This hand made music and grew flowers, it held many hearts but its palm is now dark. This hand made handprints in the moonlight on steamy car windows. This hand held your face and kissed it…and…smiled. Its signature spelled out a mistake made in a minute. I drew a line under a 7 year limbo