I write about fairies
whimsical angels
musicians of the heart
I post their pictures high.
I hope that I can still reach them later
when later arrives.
I search out my song
listen to silence when needed.
I place a fence around my garden
my garden that is me.
I let in what will cause my garden to grow.
I think of of the times I failed
saw wilted stones
tossed them into a lake
skipped time
skipped me.
Gentle flowers sing.
They leave a delicate fragrance
they dance when the wind is right.
I prop them with a stick and gentle cords
I await their compliant sighs.
Sometimes
I cannot swim in this sea
close the wrong doors
open the right ones
decipher my worth here
and yet
I hear those flowers panting.
Fairies and sea horses
come take me away.
I cherish their magic.
I whisper prayers
I thank whimsical angels
I fold up all my old letters
smile
sometimes cry I suppose.
I get tired of hearing of dead robins
and yet
I cannot help but run to their rescue.
I feel their last breath
hold their fate
and mine
I can only sigh at theirs.
I cry for them.
I drew a sea horse.
I will mount it and it will take me home.
I will gather all the roses
and dead robins in the yard.
All the angels and fairies will meet me
past that last star
no longer bleeding.
I will wrap up wounds
with ribbons and bows
and we will leave them there.
