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My Lost But Never Forgotten Love for My Children

I wonder what your doing.. Or how your living life... I wonder if you have learned anything new today... And how did you sleep? Of ALL the questions that gets unanswered, the BIGGEST one is Why? Or why can't we be together? Why can't I watch you grow up... Or why can't I be the one to lead you through this life... All questions... that I'll just never know... But no matter what I promise we will be together, No matter how long it may seem, Just remember that I always carry you in my heart, And you are always my favorite dream during the night.

NOTHING MORE TO SAY

NOTHING MORE TO SAY

When the last words have been spoken
And exhaled breaths are finally emptied
No residual meaning to scratch or graze
Perhaps the well is dry, or grit run out
But there will be more, have no doubt
As one carefully selected sign off phrase
And no language any longer exempted
An outburst done and the seal is broken

Energies sapped, like an exhausted prey
Such that no call for surrender is stirred
And by pointed statement, is harpooned
Rhetoric was successfully called to action
No regrets, nor any need for a retraction

A Season To Remember

Summer slips from our fingers, ‎a child in motion, ‎unaware of endings— ‎ ‎like lovers lingering at the door, ‎dreaming the night ‎might last ‎one moment more. ‎ ‎To the sun-lovers, ‎it is the late-day gold that lies, ‎light stretched long ‎while shadows sharpen. ‎ ‎To the heat-haters, ‎it is sweat’s final siege, ‎a month too long, ‎a breath too hot, ‎and ninety-two days ‎of scorch. ‎ ‎We chased fireflies ‎into dusk-lit theaters, ‎hands buttery with popcorn, ‎hearts unwritten. ‎ ‎August is cruel, ‎stone fruit, warm and bruised, ‎a sky that refuses to soften. ‎ ‎But only summer sings. ‎There's

My Woodshed Memories

It was almost empty then. A few dried coconut leaves and shells lay in a nook. I always withdrew from the hullabaloo. Yet I wasn’t alone in that thatched woodshed. A chameleon on the bamboo pillar often stared at me, changing its color to red. I didn’t believe it was sucking my blood. Under the roof of my dream, I reclined in a cane chair. William Shakespeare gave me philosophical company. I could hear the Western huntsman’s horn. When I slipped into a snooze, Lucy Gray gave me a nudge. Then I heard spiritual echoes in the corridor of the Ode.
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