The petals fall fast and furious.

The bare trees watch the fallen.

Limbs shivering in the coming cold.

Pink tears of surrender coat the ground.

As seasons come and go.

Yearning for their lost children.

They lift scraggly arms to the sky.

Prayers will soon be answered,

As seasons come and go.

Coats of white land on their branches.

Night falling all too soon.

Shivers dislodge the packed ice.

Leaving them bare once again.

They lift weary eyes to the sky.

As seasons come and go.

A warm wind caresses their arms.

Eyes open to sprouting buds.

Green and pink sweaters for spring.

Their children have returned.

As seasons come and go.






The view fills my mind,

Soothes my soul,

Brings me inner peace.

The sweet aroma of flowers

Tingles my nose,

Draws me closer.

The sea air brushes my face,

Salts my skin,

Leaves cold footprints.

I’m running,

Eyes wide open,

Face to the sun.

I’m here

In the paradise

Of my imagination.




Follow the lights to the house of glass.

There will be much splendor in the grass.

Lights in the trees as far as the eye could see.

A more decadent event there could not be.


Champagne will be flowing until the wee hours.

Come with me and dance with the pretty flowers.

This room full of guests gives me a chill.

Maybe we should leave I’ve had my fill.


Eyes are following us in the room.

They will be upon us all too soon.

The guests are not what they appear.

Beneath they are just bones and hair.








All is pitch black

Until the moon finds us,

Hidden on this branch.

It hits us with its spotlight,

Blind us with its glow,

Reveals us to the night.

All we want is darkness,

Respite from the sun,

Sleep for the weary.

Goodnight moon.







As I walk slowly in a daze,

Surround me in a purple haze.

I could fall asleep in this tent.

The smell alone is heaven sent.

The scent of lilac is filling my head.

I need to find an appropriate bed.

I will just sit on this bench in the sun

And enjoy the lights of the setting sun.



A walk down the street.

Fragrances so sweet.

White cobblestones line the way.

Here is where I want to stay.

Away from the madding crowd.

A place where I can be proud.

This will be my home.

I don’t need a phone.

All I need is a soft bed

To lay down my weary head.

Fishermen’s cries will awake me

To begin my day by the sea.


1 we open at sunset

“we open at sunset.”


Why open at sunset?

Why wait until your flowers are dried out 

from being in the sun all day?

Is the store an after work hobby?

In my mind’s eye, I can see the owner.

The sun is low in the deepening blue sky.

The young man pedals quickly on his bicycle

and parks below the red and white striped awning.

The dark-haired man rushes to his plants 

who lie before him wilting.

He grabs them and brings them inside.

I cross the street and peek into the window.

The man tends to the leaves with a fine mister,

then soaks their dirt with a yellow watering can.

He lines them up on the table beneath the window,

rearranging them by size from smallest to tallest.

Before my shocked eyes, the plants stand straighter.

The leaves spread out to hold each other’s hands.

The man steps back with a happy expression on his face.

Our eyes meet through the glass.

He holds my gaze before turning away.

He’s seen me.

His eyes seek mine.

I hold my breath.

A slow smile wings across his face,

dimpling his plump cheeks.

His hand waves for me to enter.

I pull open the glass door as the bell chimes.

The fragrant scent of flowers wafts to my nose

from the shelves of plants around the small room.

I stand beside the tall and handsome man.

Together we watch the plants as they stretch their stems

to the sun streaming through the window.

I whisper, “Why did you wait a whole day to water them?”

He faces me. “That is the way.”

I scrunch my nose as I glance up. “What way?”

He smiles, and his dimples reappear. “The way of the prior owner who told

me to water them only at sunset, and that I should never forget.”

I shrugged. “What would happen if you forgot?”

His stare takes on a faraway look. “These are special plants that must be

watered the same time every day or else they will die.”

“Amazing,” I murmur.

The setting sun lights the plants with an orange glow.

The sun retreats to its bed for the night.

The plants follow suit and drop hands, their leaves standing up straight.

“What happens now?” I ask.

He smiles. “They go to sleep.”


His dark blue gaze falls on me. “Would you like to accompany me 

to dinner this evening?”

My head pops up. “Will you explain more about the plants?”

His dimples deepen. “Of course. And we can share our names.”

I giggled. “That’s right. I don’t know yours.”

“But I know yours, Amy.”


He takes my arm and places it in the crook of his. “All will be explained.”

To be continued