With my fingers, I write and with my mind, I paint
There are songs hanging in the trees with the silver the moon holds.
Singing the melody of the heart until I close my eyes and you set me free.
Every note turns into letters which melt into longer sentences.
Without carrying the weight to my weakened knees.
The sunshine rises like butter in the sky spreading the warmth of whispers.
I never knew the secrets before me of a magical sunset before my dancing eyes.
And I bled tears from the sky.
Watching over you always my heart sent.
While it aches I tried to sing happy songs for you holding my hand.
Now I feel freedom.
But still, a prisoner of the earth weighted down by my eyelids.
And I hear your breath and the heartbeat so real always held together by warm memories.
And there is a sign sent so lovingly with a dove’s feather floating twirling in my mind’s eye.
It’s never too late.
Just the right moment always the right moment in time.
And I sent dreams falling from the clouds.
And you stirred them high and low.
And I slept softly on a rainbow of silk.
A comforting touch with a gentle embrace.
I sent a message from the wind into the trees.
A star sparks your name across the sky.
And my heart skips a beat.
The watercolor sunset you sent dripped into my essence.
I cry of joy of knowing.
I did not plant those trees on the mountains so tall.
I did not take my own breath away seeing such a majestic feast to the eyes.
Touch my soul with every flake of snow.
So individual and so made of oneness.
A painting paints itself in my mind.
Each stroke like none before.
I shed dew drops into the dawn.
Little morning mirrors.
And the raindrops dried into the ether.
I fear life, not death.
And my wings are left to do battle.