Love is often 
like a vase
true flawless pristine 
but like most 
things placed upon 
pedestals over time 
they chip crack
and sometimes break 
yes it’s possible 
to repair and 
piece together and 
maybe even replace 
but no vase
will ever be 
as pretty perfect 
or pleasing as
that first piece 
of original art 

And now 
my favorite 
time rise
of sun
and eyelashes 
when morning 
finally begins 
and lovely 
love too
and all 
other things 
that make 
this you

The hole formed 
in the tree
and not the 
tree around hole 
something dug itself 
deep into wood 
making room there 
that then defined 
what the tree
would be called 
holes are home 
to those who 
find refuge there 

Splash soap sip
so starts sunrise 
piano music plays 
stir stroke scratch
soon sweet song 
lofty notes float
silly silent sounds 
seductively sass same 
morning mood make 

It’s like my
home is filled 
with the waters
and I swim
languidly between the 
rooms of this 
my otherworldly place 
occasionally seeing a 
rudder or swimmer 
skimming its surface 
but never daring 
to ever come 
down this deep 
oh well more 
peace for me