To be in love is to be swept away
beyond your control, without even struggling.
Never wondering where or when you might land
always trusting that this love will stand,
through the years and months
and doldrums and such
just another visit with each other is enough
to rekindle the romance dancing in one's heart
and set happiness burning, like an ambitious spark.

I thought I was poetic, I thought "How unique."
Until I took a test or two and found
the difference is in the way I speak.
What matters to me is not the difference
and to who I say it doesn't matter
I'm found in how I say what I need to say and the moments I choose to say it.
Lost in all of the confusion, I sometimes forget what life is like
a mixture of sweet colors, always blowing by,
but if you close your eyes to them
you might as well have died.
Their brilliance is our benefit,
a picture at every turn
"I'll never close myself off to them,"
I hope that's one I've learned.
So poetry might not be my calling,
but I see it everyday.
I thought it was a part of me,
and so my job to say,
but it seems people have their own way of experiencing all this beauty
and mine just sounds like noise to them
that I'd rather just take away
and hide it for a time and place when it helps produce a notion
like the wind is there to please you and to be appreciated equally
the children laughing take away anxiety, but only if you listen.
No one likes being told what to do and I'm neither an exception,
I'm still hopeful for these changes
and grateful for the moments of expression.