I Would Give.

The mountains three hundred or more miles away

are crumbling into the introspective.

She's fighting her memories too,

a new found cloud drifting in and out of her light.

Her voice cracks in my ear, soft rain on the fence.

My hands cannot brush the crystals away,

my arms cannot embrace her timid being into strength,

and my lips cannot kiss my love on her cheek.

She is sending me her rain, her storms again,

hoping she will be okay.

All I can do is wonder when it will pass,

how she'll fair against her own mind,

and if by the sea, I'll match the mountains.

Author's Note

06.27.2014