Who Are You?
Who are you, that figures so profoundly
knowing from where each breath will come,
who commands the waves of my distant ocean
to rise and fall, like an unseen moon?
Who are you, so unknown that demands
account of why I dream or cry,
who compels me in silence to speak
in answers taken down from hangers
and wear the dreams there hung so long?
Who are you, that knows not just the from
but the where of going too,
weaving days of dawn and dusk
into night seas of pastel stars,
so much a Flavian princess you,
fairly soon, will I know who?
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Under Snow
There
dispersed by winds
beneath the snow
wait seeds.
There, to renew
begins the growth
that heals the cut
called furrow.
Bloom where you are planted
with emotion take a chance
nurture both the root and dream
let your body dance.
Empty page potentials draw
baby roots toward timelessness
the poems I send are seeds
cut with the pen from paper pods.
Sent for you to view, and growing
fond, find a place to nurture then
that hearts like plants to blossom
also need the sun.
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