And we wore white like the angels,

in our minds we remember visions of beauty

images forever embedded on holiday cards

and we closed our eyes at night

saying our simple prayers

for peace and good will

and with the hope come dawn

we too could be as beautiful

and filled with light as they.

Movies inspired through long winding lives,

as fires burned these memories come back to find

the faded smile of dreams of youth,

how we moved to goth and darkness

only to fight our way back out

into wooded hues and colors befitting

a child of nature.

She had the eyes filled with such peace,

and for years I became her,

hair and clothing to try to be in that peace

that emanated from somewhere within,

only to find as the flames died down

that it had always been there

I just couldn’t see

that all I strove for was always a part of me.

In peace I reside,

beside the still waters and evening tide,

when the moon hangs balanced

between sheets of silken white

I hear her small laugh across the universe

reaching my ears

and I am that child once more,

but an angel in waiting

no more.

My friend rekindled my thoughts on my favorite lady of my college years, and with the fires in Tennessee bringing thoughts of the movie Always to my mind, little nudges bring inspiration when least expected. I am blessed. I no longer wear continual white/cream clothing…red wine can sometimes take its toll, and food, and dog prints, etc…..beach driven hues worn now but it’s all good.

Garden of souls

Did we know then as we moved through the darkness

searching for the light with each day that passed,

our vines reaching

twining in and amongst the hardness of the world,

never allowing anything to put up a wall

to our destiny

that we would be in this here and now?

How we began so small,

tender stems reaching for the sun

as if it meant death to relax a spell

that we would be torn apart and trampled upon

ground into the earth

to begin once more

before seeds could be planted ensuring

all of the tomorrows that would be.

Emotion and thought become leaves

that begat flowers of quiet grace

that decorate the landscapes of our human minds

and somewhere within

there lies this amazing power that gives growth its chance,

we rise and rise a bit more

curving round through each instance

creating a secret garden of the soul

tended and cultivated to become

the entrance to forever.

We wind and move

push and pull our ways out of the despair

to find that bit of sunlight that waits patiently

and around us, the angels watch from afar

guiding us to the destination

we grow strong and live in joy for our moment

and with the coming of the moon,

curl around to sleep until the light rises again

and we can dance on the whispering wind,

delicate and silent in our garden

we will dream of eternity

as beautiful as the stars that sing lullabies

to our vain petal ears.

We will move in and amongst

these walls we create,

although some will reach outward and away

with leaves reaching towards the sky,

wayward vines catching all that move by

they too hold their purpose

to go higher and farther than imagined

and leaving behind those that can only dream

clinging to their arbors

afraid to make that leap,

and in doing so, wind and twist and wonder

never able to realize how high is the sky?