When My Palette is Empty

I wish for songbirds 

to sing joyful songs

around your dwelling

when I carry 

heavy tunes. 

I wish for rainbows

to appear before you

at the wave of my hand

when my palette is empty

and my brushes too dry

to paint them on your sky. 

I wish for the winds 

to lift you from the ground

at my command

when I’m not strong enough

to lighten the pains

that come around. 


And when things are bleak

and my words too weak

to make you smile,

I pray that my hand

in yours

is enough to remind you

life is still worthwhile. 

For I will not stop

hanging little lights up

above your head

to let you know

I am with you

though they may flicker

in hard times ahead. 

My love will linger

far longer

after darkness has fled. 


When My Palette is Empty

April 26, 2022

Fount of Your Smiles

Let me be the cushion on your back

at the end of a long day;

let me be the ice pack

to numb your headaches away. 

Use me as your diversion;

let me sing you songs

with your favorite renditions;

play me all night long

till your rest your eyes

then I will sing you lullabies. 


Let me be the sunlight 

peeking into your window, 

let my sweet little ray write

over your sorrows

with poems of love

and of bright days ahead.

Look above!

High atop your bed,

I am the canopy

embracing your galaxy. 


In truth, I am small,

with a voice tiny and faint.

I cannot be your all;

I am no match against

the offerings of the world

that you most deserve.

But I am true to my word;

for you, I will serve

as the fount of your smiles

for as long as you deem worthwhile. 


Fount of Your Smiles

April 18, 2022

Two Billion Heartbeats

Two billion heartbeats

in a lifetime;

every one of them for you

since we’ve met.

Each as loud as a bass drum,

shouting your name. 

And perhaps the secret chord

is playing in the background

for the heavens seem pleased;

yes, indeed. 

And our song, 

chiming along, 

telling our story

each time the drum rolls. 


A hundred thousand

heartbeats 

in a day;

only one thing they say:

that I love you—

this lifetime, for sure

and perhaps in many lifetimes

before. 

And every minute, 

a hundred heartbeats more

can attest to the truth,

here sworn. 

Not a day is happier

than every day we spend

together. 


Two Billion Heartbeats

March 27, 2022

A Letter Sent Through Airwaves

Long stretches of roads

lay between us.

You said hello

in a letter—sent

through airwaves,

defying distance and time,

past traffic and borders.

And I wrote back…

Now I’m caught

in this electric exchange

of synapses

in which the world dissolves

and the hours stand still,

and only the words between us

remain. 


And it’s a struggle

to stay sane

when I could barely restrain

my thoughts

from going to the private

spaces we’ve reserved. 

But I will hang

onto every sliver

of the promise of the day

my lips would lock

with yours

as our fingers intertwine;

the beginning of a tale

that makes all the wait

worthwhile. 


A Letter Sent Through Airwaves

March 11, 2022

Light the Beacons

Mountains rise before me;

walls of coffee brown

looming taller

with every slope I climb. 

I do not lose heart. 

For soon I will stand

on the point high enough

for me to see—

you are closer to me. 

And I will climb several more,

run from peak to peak,

if only to light the beacons

to let you know

there is nowhere

I would rather go. 


There I shall wait,

sun-up to sun-down

until smoke from the ravages

around us clears,

until all that can harm you

tire and leave,

that you may believe

I have come for you;

it is safe now. 

I will pave the path

on which you’ll walk

to greet me;

rid it of pain.

And if I but must, 

I will do it again. 


For cupcake 🧁

Light the Beacons

February 22, 2022

A Hundred Lifetimes

If I live

a hundred lifetimes,

some more glamorous than this;

some perhaps,

even poorer,

I will find

the same lonesome places

where I will sit contemplating

a hundred stories

to be told

a hundred different ways,

over and over

until the world

is a hundred times

a less lonely place. 


The world may change

a hundred times over,

grow a hundred years older,

as long as I am in it

in a hundred different forms,

I will find

one pen

to inscribe

a hundred different truths,

one stage

with a hundred different players

to share it with, 

in all the little corners

until we are found. 


And in each lifetime, 

you may wear

a hundred different faces;

I will keep finding

one 

in which your soul belongs.

And I will offer

a hundred different songs

and a hundred more,

to remind you

of the hundred different ways

I chose you,

over and over

until you understand

there is no life I’d want more. 


A Hundred Lifetimes

February 21, 2022

A Drop of Honey

I want to hear

the first rush of air

you breathe

when the blue jays sing

their morning song

as I turn to find you

beside me,

and rest my head

on your bosoms as they heave

as they did

a little too heavily

on the eve

of the first of many

sunrises 

we will greet together.


I want to see

the sunlight touching your face

as you smile

when you see me by your side,

to bask in the brightness

of your eyes

where falls

a drop of honey

as did a few

from the deep caverns

of your body

down to my lips

the night before. 


I want to taste

the sweetness

of a new day

with you close by,

to smell

the first morning brew

we will drink together, 

and drink again

from each other’s souls

the secrets

we can no longer hold

come nightfall. 


A Drop of Honey

February 15, 2022

If I Never Say the Words

And if I never say the words

I almost said a thousand times, 

remember how I said them 

anyway—

how I whispered in the silence

the things I long to scream,

          in rhymes,

how I blew kisses for you

          across the distance, 

          across the miles. 

For in the darkest of nights,

I still found you

and cradled you in my arms;

remember I will always

          keep you warm.

Every morning I greet you

and before you close your eyes, 

remember how you wish

          you could flee

from the confines of your room

          to be next to me. 


If I fail to say the words

before I run out of time,

remember how I told you

          of my crimes,

how I showed you my scars,

and how you touched them

          gently 

          from afar. 

And when the rain is pouring

          too heavily, 

remember, I will be here

          to be your canopy.

For each time I make you smile,

each time I draw out

          your laugh,

remember that for me, 

          it is more than enough

to get me through the day

          and when nights are rough. 


And if I cannot yet

          say the words

you’re not ready to hear, 

remember I will always be near;

          when the time is right,

          I will so recite

the words I can no longer

          keep out of sight. 

But if I never say the words

I wish to say a million times,

remember how I said them

in every way—

how I’ve been your ambient sound

when it was too quiet 

          or too loud;

remember I will always be

          around. 


If I Never Say the Words

February 8, 2022

Sonnet IX

So as these strokes form words on the paper,

Think my touch drawing patterns on your skin.

Each loving curve, a dance from here to there

As my hand moves on the page to draw you in;

High and low, my heart swells with its motion

As I imagine yours beating with mine.

Each line, a sweet caress with precision,

Connects our minds that we may so align. 

Every kiss my pen leaves with its tip

On every inch of the page till it’s full

Is one more fiercely planted on your lips;

I linger for their taste before I pull. 

   On the last dot, my words are a song made whole;

   And I surface from the depths of your soul. 


Sonnet IX

February 5, 2022

They Sing of Us

Faint, gentle,

the distant singing;

I hear them every morning

as the first wind blows,

carrying their voices

to my sluggish ears,

rousing me from dreams,

calling to my heart

with a careful legato,

to the tune of your name. 

I wake to greet another day

in a world made beautiful

by your presence. 


As you turn

to open your eyes,

I touch your face

through the ray of sunlight

sneaking into your window 

while their voices soar

to a grand crescendo

as they sing of us,

and slowly

glide to a low hum

to let us know

the world is alright;

the world is brand new. 


They Sing of Us

February 2, 2022