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Tuesday, February 25, 2014


when  my ears were small
words were few
little hands, little feet
barely used

a song bird sang,
to my heart beat
its rhythm,
its melody

years accrued
words came
my finger tips
became agile on
guitar strings

a song bird freed
from my lips
of when my ears
were small 
with little hands
and little feet

a melody and rhythm
to the beat
of your heart now
touches the strings
with my finger tips

it's your song, mamasita

Sunday, February 23, 2014

hold me

hold me
if but for a moment
fill an emptiness,
lately, ever present  

a void
a sense of loneliness

I’ve skipped the stone in the stream
walked the path in the woods
listening to the birds

witnessed the wonderment
of a silhouette fly into a crimson sun
winked at stars of night
waved good morning to the
waking golden eye

for this I am grateful

solitude is my friend
and reminds me of
how small I am  

this emptiness,
ever so salient