As the bluejay of day perches beside blackbird night,
Our two hearts hammer, yet the world stays quiet.
If the moon falls silent, wrapped in twilit shroud,
Even our whispers seem piercingly loud.
When the bear constellations retreat into sleep,
A grey wolf haze stalks the woods, dark and deep.
The valley gleams with frost, yet your arms give me warmth.
You are my compass, my true love, my true north.
Category: Poetry
Father Christmas Draws Near
Thin frosty clouds numb the shivering moon,
A couple embraces by the window’s glow.
Their silhouettes kissed by the fire’s warm light—
Father Christmas will visit them soon.
In this silent night, bells faintly ring,
Carolers stroll through the streets and sing.
Their candle flames dance with the brisk winter breeze,
Hearts warmed by the joy Father Christmas brings.
In the town square stands a towering evergreen,
Its branches, dressed in snow, their needles weaved,
Each bough adorned with ornaments and light,
While gifts from Father Christmas rest beneath.
Just beyond, the pond is an icy mirror,
Children in skates reflect its wintry cheer,
It glitters and shines like a ballroom chandelier,
They happily await, for Father Christmas draws near.
Twilight’s Wine
The trees, blushing with some ancient shame, stood still—
As though your beauty drew breath from the air itself.
The wind, a trembling hymn, unwound its thread
Through a brittle ballet of leaves, now pale and dead.
The sun, a jack-o-lantern’s flame, simpered with delight,
As silhouettes quietly sipped from twilight’s wine.
And we, two twines, knitted by the seamstress of fate,
Where light and shadows lingered at the gates—
The forest stretched, a cathedral vast and deep,
Yet in its hallowed halls, the world lay in dream.
We walked for miles, hearts afire—our love, the coal,
In silence, I found you, the keeper of my soul.
This fleeting hour, this day, forever mine—
Though time will ravage all, you stand divine.
Secret Santa
When winter arrived, and the sky blushed with rosy, pink,
You’d grin and say, “Mrs. Claus must be baking cookies again.”
One Christmas, you made me believe Santa had visited—
You showed me a Polaroid, your proud piece of proof:
From the chimney hung your boots, covered with soot.
One year, Mom whisked me to the mall, where I sat on Santa’s knee,
And I had no idea it was you behind the beard, not the man of my dreams.
All the goodies, tucked gently beneath our tinseled tree.
Each one a treasured memory of love, you gave to us all.
I was lucky to call you “Dad,” a gift I’ll always recall.
Steady on the ladder, you strung the lights with pride.
Each bulb a shimmer in the long winter night.
I only wish our Christmases hadn’t ended so soon.
Everyone knew Mom adored the holidays, but you did too—
And when the first white snowflakes fall, I won’t feel blue.
As the angel children carve in the snow, I see traces of you.
In the Veil of Autumn
I wrap my arms around you,
On this crisp, golden day,
Leaves crackle beneath our feet,
Your warmth rivals our lattes.
Pumpkin spice and cinnamon,
Twist in the brisk fall breeze,
A scarecrow stands sentinel,
Guarding the orchard with ease.
We gather the ripest apples,
Then sail fields of flowing rye,
Through rolling hills and meadows,
Under the sun’s soft, amber tide.
Though winter’s chill will soon arrive,
And frost will kiss our skin,
In our hearts, autumn’s fire burns,
A glow that warms within.
Wanderers of the Heart
We wandered with a leisured gait,
To the glen in the forest shade.
White angel light bathed ghostly birch,
Torn between Heaven and earth.
A dusty stream longed for the rain,
Sad tears wept from the cascade.
Yet you and I did not feel thirst—
Drunk on love’s liquor.
Reflections Under a Strawberry Moon
You wanted to pick the strawberry moon,
In a sky painted with a starburst sunset.
You tasted its sweetness, then kissed me—
Your lips were even sweeter than the fruit.
Coyotes howled through the hills like wind,
As fireflies danced, courting the stars.
By the bay that thirsted for our reflection,
I guard that moment, timeless, in my heart.
Lost Somewhere
Once, my spirit wandered free and bold,
Pine-scented winds wove through the trees,
The Rockies stood, silent and old,
A fresh snow kissed each peak.
In the stillness, on that lofty throne,
I sat, a pilgrim to realms unseen,
Cross-legged in lotus, the world’s voice a drone,
While my soul floated like a lily, serene.
I feasted off the land, its purest green,
And drank from the stream where time is slow,
Each drop a memory, each leaf a buried dream,
In a world that’s both familiar and unknown.
We joined hands as the light began to fade,
Sang our hopes to the darkening sky,
But our prayers scattered like whispers in the shade,
Lost somewhere between the earth and the sigh.
Conversations in the Garden
The elm trees sway under August’s breath,
The sun, a lion with its mane ablaze,
Watches over Summer and Autumn—
Two sisters meeting in the garden’s quiet dusk.
They sip on rosé, tasting memories in each drop,
While crickets play their twilight song.
Their words, soft and fleeting, drift like shadows,
As they wait for their brother, Winter,
Who will soon lay his frost across the earth.
Daffodils now solemnly bow their heads,
As leaves, in their silent fall,
Take on the colors of change.
A chill slips through what has come to pass,
As the elder sky wraps itself in black,
Preparing for the long night ahead.
Harvesting Dreams
In the quiet twilight, dreams take their flight,
A stealthy owl, guiding through the darkest night.
With wings that whisper secrets of the skies,
He soars in silence, ever so wise.
He brings to life what our hearts confide,
Turning wishes into a radiant light.
A lantern glowing in the shadowed times,
Illuminating paths where hope still climbs.
Towards a world of dreams intertwined,
Where aspirations grow, pure and divine.
Like fruit on the vine, ripe and sweet,
From the seeds in our minds, we proudly reap.