Imperfection–The Me I Love The Most
The words I wrote before are gone, copied to another file
for later times, for cloudy days. I start again to craft
an image on this page, to present my thoughts as I go forward,
to begin anew as if to reveal the book of everything I’ve done,
to shock reality within to come without a barrier, to flush
my wounds in private rooms inside my head. Alone I cry not,
but yell into the darkness, desire that you wrestle me into
a caring warm embrace. Then I’ll begin again to heal.
© May 2021
Clematis in May
Spindly vines weave through the trellis,
year after year, taking over, erupting in
delicate buds of pink and white, that after sun
become a pride of petals, rotating as the light
scoots across the sky from east to west. Flowers
still pink and white emit joy until slivers of green
peak out, grow to leaves and hide the latticework
until autumn breaks forth and the cycle begins again.
© May 2021
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