We gather up petals
from the flowers that have died.
She travels with magic
on a mystical ride,
pointing out sunsets
and ponies to ride.
So just see how it goes
how the magic unfolds
how the children you've known
lend out sea covered rhymes
still fasting
but no longer cold.

"Autumn Has Seasoned Me Well"

Content to be understood in a casual way and yet...

He was a most attentive healer.
Every space and corner he defined in me.
I so tastefully wore a crown.
No one around.
Stayed and stayed...
he remembered he had not seen me in full bloom.
All things considered I should have waited to hear the rest,
but patients gathered in the hallways,
wounds too deep to mind.
Who can contend with such a lover?
At least I know that I don't heal well.
There were reprieves I had not considered,
but Autumn...
Autumn has seasoned me well.

"Break Not Your Heart"

a song:

1)
There will be times
and treasures I've known,
there will be rivers
melted with snow.

2)
There will be dreams
attached to autumn leaves,
there will be springtime
and reasons to flee.

Chorus:
And break not your heart
hold back the wounds
however inflicted
they were not meant for you.

3)
There will be seas
only airplanes and ships adorn
there will be silence
for a sorrow too worn.

4)
There will be sighs
as the ruler points wrong
yet... there will be comfort
in the rainbow of song.

Chorus

Break:
Time passes by
I plot to hear you call
and yet I know why
and have accepted it all.

Chorus

"Reality"

a song:

Magic motions used to set my soul ablaze,
until I noticed in the most spectacular form
that little heartbeats
are most easily swayed
and had most certainly swayed me.
My only restitutions being
the crudeness of reality.
A springboard to what I thought would be
the very end of me
turned out to be
the very depths of me.
Oh... unkind blow
vexation of my heart
the knife that penetrated ever so deeply
gave me reality.

"Before We Go"

(a poem for Diana and Robert)

The heros of selfish wounds
owned by summer
not forgotten by fall.
As silent as glances
down a long dark hall.
Their end is as painful as their deed,
chosen so hastily.
There are looks I'd like to share,
silences I would treasure.
There are smiles I'd like to say
silenced now forever.
Their children picked flowers at the neighbors
running across the street saying,
"Before we go, before we go." Heros are owned by children,
if they choose to remember them that way.