hot pink petals
this song: Most People Are Good by Luke Bryan
dreaming on a little side porch
fig newtons and hot tea
saturday mornings with friends
this book: The Journal 1837–1861 by Henry David Thoreau
dinner on a blue and white farm table
ice cream for the pup
hearty wildflowers and herbs on the edge of the forest
reading under light blankets at midnight
and this song: Hello It’s Me by Todd Rundgren
lives entwined–
one growing upon another,
memories overlapping;
your dreams embracing my dreams
her burning rage scorched through mountains and rivers and thick, moss-covered forests; above dreams and nightmares and across time, reaching into the distant, prehistoric past and all future moments balanced upon the icy precipice between now and forever
on an afternoon walk in the rain,
her thoughts fell into pools of cold water
and melting ice
in her dreams, his warmth permeated the frigid air and melted years of indifference
it was then that she heard the old tree whisper,
and her reply was softly exhaled into the bitter winter wind
her hair was made of long ice needles
and her spirit sparkled like an emerald winter forest
