are my grounding love.


Lifting me up,

love tingles;


love soothes,

gives permission to be

rather than question.


So much time

is spent questioning:

twenty pools of Walden Pond water and I always try to sift my way out–

but this is sea, not sand.



your soft face

is part of my fate…

yes, I feel butterflies,

but they are not fluttering,

they are gliding–

spreading their golden wings over my insides,

reminding me that I am home.



January 3, 2018

2 thoughts on “Untitled

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