You Are

You are the shooting star in my night sky
The dew drop on a petal
A soft breeze on a hot day
The chewy centre of a cookie
The weight of a sleeping dog’s head on my lap
You are an empty seat on the bus
The words on a page that make me stop and take stock
You are the melody of my favourite tune
The smile on the face of a stranger
The smell of warm cinnamon buns
You are walled gardens, frosty mornings and cloudless skies
The silence of a mountaintop after a long climb
The sound of an orchestra warming up before a performance
The laughter of children in a playground
You are every good thing in every little moment
You will never know how much I love you
But know that I do.

*****

Lost Love

It’s said that grief is love with nowhere to go.
Like rain that falls where nothing will grow.
Or a beautiful melody that drifts on the air
Without ears to hear it, without lips to share.

A nectar rich blossom where no bee will find it
Or a bench in the shade where no one will sit.
It’s a well of fresh water, clear and pure
Without bucket or cup or rope to secure.

It seeps out in tears, in sobs and in keens.
It strangles all hope, all joy and it feels
Like you’re stuck looking up for the light above
Grasping and clawing emitting lost love.

Catch it, grab it and breathe it back in,
That love that you’ve lost, surrounds you still.
In a rainbow, a cloud, a rain shower you’ll see
That which you’ve lost now dancing, now free.

*****

Gone

She sits by the window, waiting
for a voice, a touch or more.
A lighting flash inside her head
A memory of before.

And with the scent of Jasmine,
she closes her eyes and sees
there amongst the petals,
a friend has come to tea.

The white lace table comes to life
as memories appear.
A son, a dog, a house, a ring,
A love that still is here.

The friend absorbs the tapestry,
the rich bouquet of life.
Listens to the straining voice
recalling joy and strife.

And when her eyes open,
she gazes on those flowers
and the stranger sitting by her side
her friend from long lost hours.

A lightning flash inside her head
a memory of before.
She turns to the window waiting,
for a voice, a touch or more.

*****