Writing

I drink you like a parable

Wild like my dreams

Winter is white and lies in my hand only to disappear into water, cold water, that pierces the skin

You stay in your house, arranged like a flower in a beautiful garden

Your eyes are golden like your heart

Winter falls on your windows in white dust

The dust we will all return to

It falls from the sky to become cold piercing water

And grief is in my heart like a friend who never wants to leave

You were there, too, before him, in the palms of my hand like a red poppy under the yellow orange sun of may

And you warmed my heart like the sun gently caresses the skin in summer

Free like a wild rose

Free like a wild bird in the Amazon

With blue feathers that sings of love

Now you sing of loss