Poems swirl into my headspace and retrieve my sunken heart. I heed their notion, tapping my brow to drag seamless thoughts into open space, where they disperse silently.

On the back of trusted friends, I find solace as I collect fresh leaves from swollen branches. Like candy, sugar coated doves chase the sun. Bright rays tickle my face, wipe tears from my cheeks just below the rustle of branches.  Movement reverberates through the tree’s core transporting earth’s vibrations from roots to leaves to wide open space. I motion for my own heart to seek the roots of life.

The unclasping of my walls stirs the veins deep reach into the crowns of my fingers. If I were to grow leaves, my skin would lay out soil of lived experiences tugged underneath my chin. I tend to the sky. Growth inches forth as I penetrate the beyond.

My leaves brush your face. A face well known to me. Some speak of maps. I ponder on smiles patiently creasing skin around corners of mouths. One day I will miss your creases and the leaves. Life leads them into the wilderness thoughts cannot attend, men cannot touch, not even the tick of time. I surrender my own inner flow to slip into your wake, where I suppose leaves dance with leaves, coaxing love to reveal itself. Lo and behold, some earth holds us both, I trust.