The Time Between

The trees and their branches await the sun, 
They conceal their impatience well, 
But one day in April their leaves appear, 
Revealing their chlorophyll. 

 Amazed we are, astounded, impressed, 
When green leaves suddenly abound, 
And before too long, they're taken for granted, 
Until they change color and fall to the ground. 

 The summer consists of the time between, 
A time of ignorance and bliss, 
When we fail to remember, 
Until September, 
It's the season we will most sorely miss.


Words on a Page

I still have all your letters, 
stashed upon my shelf, 
I've kept them there, 
all these years, 
as a comfort to myself, 
but on the occasion that they're opened, 
and all read through complete, 
I realize in my heart of hearts, 
my happiness they deplete, 
But even so, 
I keep them there, 
to remind me of life's season, 
when I was loved, 
and loved someone, 
and for no other reason, 
than love was what there was, 
what we had, 
what we knew was true, 
until I found, 
until you admitted, 
that it was only me who loved you.



The early morning sunrise, 
takes you by surprise, 
but then it's mesmerizing, lovely, 
and any stress you had from the day or week before, 
goes right on out the window and right on in the door, 
comes the next day, 
fresh and clean, 
bright and new, 
ready to be explored. 
It's like the reset button, 
people just fail to see. 
It's neglected, passed by, ignored, 
but for the few that know it's there, 
and push it, 
it has the capacity to be...