guitars

I was star-sparkling guitars

when I woke to the sun.

Lutes in the pine trees

stored treasuries, embroidered the morning

with sound. Faces delicate,

dancing to me, lip-like, light

chimed in the wind's bell.

 

Remember so many

happinesses are ours.

So many wonderfuls tell

an everlasting of simplicities.

Help me when I need you.

I promise

gardens break out in secret

and bloom love-shine in the doorways of the sun.