BrokenEchoes

  It happens whenever this song plays I can hear her voice as she sings along Adding shape to the abstract And color to the unseen Her cadence ebbs as I inhale Flows as I exhale Her fingers snap along with my heartbeat During the chorus, she spins I get dizzy She is with me while the tune exists But gone when it is over As the music fades into oblivion So does she.

  I am almost there There are only a few miles left I can smell the cinnamon tea Steeping on the coffee table The goldfinch promises a song I can hear the porch swing creaking Nudged by a gentle wind And see the lightning bugs dance I can smell fresh cut grass And hear her singing somewhere  I eagerly await her warm embrace Then I will know I am home That is where I want to be I am almost there.

  I am consistently amazed  at the level to which She is attuned to  The initial faint whispers of an early spring. She is energized by growth, renewal, birth, becoming Rising abuzz with the essence of youth emerging Eyes wider to the lighter greens still yearning for longer days Rejoicing in the golden glowing morning Savoring the mild hesitation of the lilac dusk She awakens eagerly as the earth does, overcoming grey slumber Opens her arms in unison with the blue and orange flowers. She welcomes the new beginnings with a warm embrace. As she finds her home and hope in the blooming of a new young spring, I find mine in her, and follow her into the soft, warm, dew-dappled morning. 02/28/2022