there is madness in this box I find myself

placed by days that come to us all

some constraints are self imposed

but no less hard to break

travelling without regret

will take some time

empty rooms line every hall

shadowed memories gathering dust

some books are read by just one

pages that now are missing

once held words

forever locked inside the wandering heart

• 

does my fear

push you away

does the ache in my heart

leave you no space

do the shards at my feet

have you cautious of your step

remember when

your love was strong

passion at the wheel

no governor on your heart

not reckless

but stepping through yesterday’s chains

true remains my love

but the path is winding

and my mind is full

I stumble

I may fall

the pace is slowed

• 

if time’s hands move at a constant pace

what explains this bumpy ride

some days take eternities to arrive

hauling butterflies of anticipation

stirring giddy images

other days do not knock upon arrival

spinning me round

knocking me down

this day lurks in its approach

in the space of missing pages

recalling a struggle endured

a valiant battle with an inevitable end

its arrival is flanked

by memories dark and light

spirit carried by children

and abounding love from the many touched by a beautiful soul

I don’t want to run

but sometimes I hide

the growth that rides with time

feels stunted late in May

to defend against the steady ache

is a look inside to what’s been learned

hurt remains

but moving on is the only way

• 

• 

words in the wind

sound like tangled chords

open space

allowing bloom towards freedom

mindlessly forward

wheels in tandem

rolling in love

darting oncoming traffic

no brake lights

swimming

inside an anxious current

a kiss

unlocking rusted gates

that guarded barren fields

outside and afraid

searching for something

a connection not made

once beating with exuberant pace

a heart tripping with passion

be patient, it’s not that type of race

heading towards light

emerging from darkness

heavy and daunting, gather your might

a train pushing on, stuck on the rails

the brakeman says no

I only chart the rails

• 

you are a poem

amidst words on a page

you are a smile

resting upon pursed lips

your eyes tell stories

I want to read

there is a script to this play

are we actors

are we writers

a part of me

with you

always

this is not a yarn being spun

there is something in the fore

demanding attention

what is received

when it is received

life’s timing remains unwritten

expecting nothing

yet ready for anything

confidently silent

bending with harsh winds

harnessing all it can

holding grace with strength

tenacious and remarkable

are roots built from time

simply anchoring all that hangs above the water

all is well when you cannot look into the eyes

the space we hide from the light

often holds the key