Treasure

breathless words from ancient sonnets
capture Eden’s liquid jewels
drop sweet nectar light on the tongue

sweet vanilla mountain melts
over warm apple crumble
golden crisp leaves brush past

on the last whisper of summer’s breath
evening light caresses sheltering trees
waves a satisfied goodbye to the day

familiar embrace a final wrap
around cascading conversation
spilling like grain from gathering wagons
to say goodnight in the dusk

laughter sparkles in the darkness and scatters
skipping light stars into every crevice
of an upturned face, every corner
of an upturned heart

content in the echo to gaze
like a child in mother’s arms
reach upward to adoring face
touch eternity in the familiar

Believe

I would die a thousand deaths
at my own hand to know you love me
but cannot deny myself long

enough to say I love you

I would write a thousands poems
by my own hand to declare devotion
but cannot pick up your word long

enough to read love

etched in stone
written in blood
hammered in wood

traced in dust by your finger
as you point away condemnation
resurrect the body of work

you planned just for me

and I die
in your arms
live
in your plan
trace your fingerprint
on my heart