Day 26

Glass and steel make such
pretty lovers; bold in their
stark, naked embrace.

Day 25

The mail reminds me
that I’m part of the problem
I complain about…

Day 24

Diana holds night
in a hushed, indigo womb;
a full, lonely child.

Day 23

I wish him a world
where actions replace symbols
with as much passion.

Day 22

I often think that
a child’s feet are heartbreaking,
yet full of promise.

Day 21

Time wants to fold me
into his scratchy fabric –
It won’t be easy.

Day 20

At some point in time
I became project guru,
switching with my Dad.

Day 19

The sun has a way
of taking pieces of me
along for the ride.

Day 18

If I write the words
and hang them in reverence,
will they all come true?

Day 17

I watched as Winter
burst forth with one last display
before Spring took him.