She is my patch of grass,
Keeping my feet cool with morning dew,
It tickles me uncomfortably only to
Remind me that life is a surprise
Repeated over and over again.
From a distance, an invitation.
In the moment, within its reality,
a fleeting bliss that wished for eternity.
The morning light to my night sky,
Promising the bright unknown, it hushes
Yesterday into but a whisper.

Apparent from unkempt sheets, she is not home.
She looks at me from the top drawer,
teasing me of her existence.
I hear a bell, or is it a ring, or the ever
So gentle wind of a passing, or even
Without touch or sound,
her presence or absence is always announced.

....

"Nobody sees a flower -- really -- it is so small it takes time -- we haven't time -- and to see takes time, like to have a friend takes time." - Georgia O'Keeffe