You dug down deep

In the earthy clay of my heart

With your golden spade

Then moved the dust aside

Gently with your fingers

In the palm of your hand

You stirred and admired its contents

Seeing value in

The stardust I am made of

*

Without fear

You breathed your light into my...

When I see clipped flowers, something deep inside me desires to get them into water, so they can last as long as possible sharing their beauty, fragrance and joy. A bouquet sitting out of water is actually distressing to me, the vision translates to moments of joy being lost.

In the middle of t...