Dearest

Dearest,

I’m not sure why I spill ink stains

into your dreams, but somewhere

in the poetry I’ve left my heart.

I hope your lips won’t return it broken

or tease possible with a flame too cold to burn.

Forever is a penny word spent to buy trust.

Tomorrow can’t be seen, so give me today.

I’ve never felt the urge before to bare my soul,

or press flowers into words, but butterflies rage

within me, and I grow bold in their tempest.

Morning is climbing the rooftops.

I’ll know if the weather will be rain or shine

when I see the forecast in your eyes.

Love,

Marie

Real Toads ~ Dear Poems