A field of
Wildflowers is a
Beautiful sight all
Moving in unison
With the wind
Until someone picks
A few for
A bouquet on
A table top
Now that one
Of many becomes
A One of
Few brightening up
A room or
A person I
Feel as though
I’ve been picked
By you and
Now became a
Thing of beauty
Just for you
Oh and like
That one star
That I spy
On the East
Horizon you lay
In your bed
Just as luminous
Hovering there it
Outshines the others
Giving definition to
The heavenly orbs
Just as you
Give definition to
The word friend
One young one
Old one fresh
One seasoned one
Bright one muted
One blossoming one
Falling one erupting
One settling one
Fresh one dried
One silly one
Serious one spicy
One sweet one
Confident one cautious
One blazing one
Ash one popping
One smoky one
Quiet one chatty
One won the
One heart of
The other one
Awakening to my
Own voice recalling
You like a
Halo spinning overhead
Hovering in space
Moments after creation
You appeared from
Behind my blind
Side my new
Moon in orbit
Circling me there
Individually you are
Distinctly created to
Be your own
Sphere yet celestially
Dancing with me
Here in the
Eons drawn to
Each other wondering
Which really is
Leading and which
One is following
Oh sweetheart we
Wont always agree
But unlike rams
On some craggy
Himalayan mountain we’re
Not taking aim
Buckling down and
Butting heads we’re
Talking albeit sometimes
In code trickling
Across wires of
Anger but if
We never disagreed
Did we ever
Really really agree
HARLAN DIDRICKSON 