A poem for taking chances again.
Walking slowly, running behind,
wishing we could slow down time,
water the sprig to bloom,
lavender afternoon
to make us feel whole inside.
We’re finding it hard to let go,
slow mornings and espresso,
like watching the world spin,
or watching a whirlwind
scatter through a meadow.
Then presto!
—the sky and the garden switch places,
making me think I imagined her
as we sought the sky’s limitations
and now it’s raining down lavender.
Walking slowly, running behind
I wish you told me it was by design
to turn the scene upside down
as we walk around
for little flowers to find.
Then surprise!
—the sky and the garden switch places,
we’re dancing through an empty calendar,
we seek out the sky—goodness gracious—
and now it’s raining down lavender.
I’m taking chances, darling, again,
you, like soft dances of petals in the wind,
make me wish I could stand and listen.
Here’s another toast to light and dark roast,
soft and sweet, when we meet.
There’s nothing that came close.
You left a door open,
I poured a pourover,
hoping you weren’t spoken for.
But I see my reflection in your green,
you lavender dream.
