Grace

 

 

Hidden in the stream of her flowing hair,

Is a charm that unmistakably stays there,

Over the years, over her jobs and roles,

Over paths that have often hurt insoles.

She walks unfazed, with head held high,

Only a silent prayer; a wishful sigh.

 

Stronger each day, with her quiet will,

Little joys in life she tries to fill,

Doing most with what she has at hand,

Some scheduled, yet some unplanned.

She moves collected, with unmatched grace,

Faltering some; yet with a smiling face.

 

Now as the long day has drawn to an end,

She smiles with the breeze that heavens will send,

Mother, daughter, friend and wife,

She plays them all; our cradle of life.

And in her is a light that calls to the unseen,

For beauty unaware truly is beauty pristine.

 

…

Weak

 

 

Moments in time, when your hand I figured

Would hold mine someday, if fate hath favored,

Were today jolted from their reckless abandon,

And dreams now seem to be more in wanton.

 

As I saw the sight that much to my surprise

Did not only blind; from hurt, from despise,

But hurt was the heart, and jaded the spark,

For how does one see when the world turns dark?

 

I ask not for much, but your hand in mine,

But forgot the suitors that have raced me to the line,

This moment has simply passed me by, still

I stand bereft here, of strength, of will.

 

…

Return

 

 

Eyes shut tight, all I see is a blurred speck

I can still feel your breath, warm, upon my neck.

I need you to cup my eyes with your hands,

Asking me again to guess your name.

Only one pair would ever take that chance,

But now I guess it won’t be the same.

 

I need to feel those eyes smiling back to see,

Like that was the first time they ever saw me.

To look at the lines your eyes will make,

Curling on both ends; two playful nooks

Empower the real in our world, once fake

Return them to me, those rapture looks.

 

And when the night has set upon the day,

Return to me the pain, that tonight will stay

Watching you leave, but in hope of the next

Morn, that only you make in a twilight hour,

Return to me, even if it were just a pretext,

Or just return my dreams, my love, my power.

 

…