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My Daughter Christina's poetry:

Christina

Tamara & Rick
Tamara, Rick, G-Ma & Christina

Wednesday, October 12, 2005

On being 13

remembering the eve of his ending...

ordinary shadows

lick the edges

of a funeral pier

setting free

tomorrow's caged bird

caught in today's

moist dream

Copyright ©2004-7 Christina Kay Brown

Friday, September 23, 2005

Pirate Dancing

Each day heavy sun drops
bleach traces of
yesterday away
and I am left
with only shadows of
the girl who was.
Remembering the taste of pirate
dreams while longing for
colorful, sparkling jewels…

After a leisurely rest

I rise, stretching thru

the pain of growth

and innocently embracing

the flavor of new hopes.

Magically dancing to the

songs my new heart sings

written in a language

only Real Pirates understand.

Monday, September 5, 2005

hush

The timelessness of peace

envelopes my memories

sprinkled with grace and hope

which I once believed

wore the same clothes.

Grace is the sunlight on the leaves.

Hope is the instinct to grow.

One withers and dies without

the fragrance of both......

and always it dangles from

the necklace of age.

Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Poem for Spencer's Group Write

My life as I knew it....

flows with expected seasons

lingering here and there

with scraps of hope.

Memories of yesteryear

weave a cloak of rabid colors while

some sting my heart with sadness

other colors dance teasingly across

the brow of my youth, following the

footprints that lovers left there.

Each time the sun slips behind a cloud

I remember the promise whispered

late that night, crowned in glory:

I shall never leave you, never forsake you.

With that prayer tucked safely within

the pages of life I trudge on and

vow to always honor You.

Gently I tell all I encounter about a love

so true, so pure that nothing can tarnish it.

Nothing crushes it. And in my dark place

I chant out loud about Your love.

You changed my life as I knew it.

Friday, October 7, 2005

Sandcastles

(Building new dreams)

painting with one's

soul leaving

traces of you

beyond yesterday

hoping to foretell

fragrant poems

tidal waves wash

the footprints

but not the path

Thursday, October 6, 2005

Celebrate

For Daddy, Gil and Holly

birthdays approach

for the dead

lungs strain

against ribs

breaths pull

long

and

slow

my darkness

shines

thru the light

of You

Wednesday, October 5, 2005

crusading

Ruthless Knight

trudging onward

brushing darkness

swiftly, sharply

swords clashing battle

hallowed grounds flood

maidens fling mercy

concealing deceitful dreams

on a hill, shadowy cross rises

after all, a true crusade

God's look

He can only be seen from the soul
recognized in primary colors
flavors of green and blue
He can be felt in cool rain
falling from billowy clouds
in Rembrandt's sky
His scent lingers in kitchens
of mothers who bake cookies and pies
of love, vanilla and sugar
His touch finds it's way to the breath
of kittens and puppies...nestled in fur
He sounds like small children singing
(Come and play, everything's A-OK)
Can't you hear Him?

Christina Kay Brown

Monday, August 8, 2005

You touch my heart ...

When star dust lingers

in the sky feeling your soul

and gently breathing life

into pure darkness.

When the weariness of

All That Has Been

weighs heavily and loomingly

in the air, responding

with a Southernly charm.

When tears stain the edges

of tomorrow and gently

remind of His promise.

When felt smiles on

your tender face reflect

lights of love, worn with pride.

You touch my heart.

Monday, September 5, 2005

hush

The timelessness of peace

envelopes my memories

sprinkled with grace and hope

which I once believed

wore the same clothes.

Grace is the sunlight on the leaves.

Hope is the instinct to grow.

One withers and dies without

the fragrance of both......

and always it dangles from

the necklace of age.

those I've lost

death's embrace lingers
gently on the pathway
where once my heart
kept prefect rhythm
with yours
and lovers dangle
quietly on the vastness
of dark despair

Fridge poems

Don't they mourn when

in a stormy blue sea

we drown aloud

in their care

and cry in spite

of the day

My life as I knew it....

flows with expected seasons

lingering here and there

with scraps of hope.

Memories of yesteryear

weave a cloak of rabid colors while

some sting my heart with sadness

other colors dance teasingly across

the brow of my youth, following the

footprints that lovers left there.

Each time the sun slips behind a cloud

I remember the promise whispered

late that night, crowned in glory:

I shall never leave you, never forsake you.

With that prayer tucked safely within

the pages of life I trudge on and

vow to always honor You.

Gently I tell all I encounter about a love

so true, so pure that nothing can tarnish it.

Nothing crushes it. And in my dark place

I chant out loud about Your love.

You changed my life as I knew it.

little darlings

the prose in my heart

I've seen Angels gather

surprised to see

their reflection in your eyes

to feel themselves beneath

your polished surface

we believed we harbored

no more secrets

and then

you tell your

story of God.

Who knew you didn't know....

I would have

introduced you two

much earlier in the game....

what if I'd died last August?

You would have run

to Him or from Him.

Next time, I won't wait.

Christina Kay Brown

I believe

In free will

and willful freedom.

In Goodness

and Godness.

In dream-stuff

and happenstance.

In the finality of faith

and the faithfulness of endings.

In home fires

and burning lust.

In the color of happiness

and the disguise of sadness.

In the freedom of love

and the prison of hate.

In on-line friendship

and real life betrayal.

In the purity of children

and the wisdom of elders.

In today's hope

and tomorrow's grandness.

In the smell of joy

and the flavor of peace.

In the way my name sounds

on God's lips.

In Poetry.

In Art.

In you.

In me.

But mostly, I just believe.

Christina Kay Brown

Monday, August 22, 2005

Camp

I learned a new trait

whilst I was gone

your soul taught me to

conquer the largest fear

to dance with the moonlight

to sparkle with sun drops

to float bubbly in the light

to set free spiders

to laugh like a loon

to giggle at midnight

to weep with abandonment

to sing until my lungs hurt

to forget about being ill

to believe

Christina's 1st Drawings web.jpg (55850 bytes)

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Prayers for my campers

Butterfly wings

wake me, sliding gently

out of slumber into nervousness.

The heart beat of hope fades

with drums in the jungle

as the substance of dreams

swirl into nothing.

I have prayed for you

little girls...big prayers of fun.

My prayers, like butterflies in the

garden, only spread pollen

and perhaps next year your

young fragrances will still bloom.

Maybe next year promises

of dew and morning sun

shall be enough guidance

onward toward a future

we have tasted in the past.

Sleep beckons me back

with a lover's embrace

where certainly there are

more dreams of you.

Saturday, March 27, 2004

Forlorn regret flutters carelessly

against the window panes

seeps beneath the door jam spilling

reckless over wooden floors

randomly over wooden souls

How dare the sadness of a hundred

different lives creep into

this dark river of time ….

It that spilled water on the page

or is it a salt filled tear?

Is that pity in your eyes?

Or lingering compassion?

I have plenty of pity and seek

only recognition; which, honestly

propels you to these meetings too.

Tuesday, March 23, 2004

fragile painter of

light versus shadow dances

forever my soul

Christina Kay Brown

Tuesday, March 16, 2004
Robbed

Stealthily and swiftly you arrived

welding a sword of pain

perhaps phantom, perhaps real

illness prevents vital tissue

from discerning truth.

Should this thief be trusted?

Why is it claiming squatters rights

in a weary soul.....?

Finally, Lady Mac Beth's hand washing

and eerie, mournful cry "Out damn spot, out"

is understood, truly digested.

Dreams haunted by a prior self

mock this new resistance...tease with

walking, dancing and random shimmying

Friday, March 19, 2004

Heart Ache

Sometimes loneliness creeps in

seeping thru the veil of time.....

lingering as smoke in the tavern of

this weary heart.

Remember when you promised

a family's love is forever?

Remember when you promised

time heals all wounds?

Father, please guide the pain

and heal my tender soul.

animated flower in a pot

The stars feel brighter now

Radiating heat and warmth defying logic

Even your breath leaves soft trails in the sky

There is a small sigh and shrug

A wrinkle in the skin of your ever soft brow

It foretells of a time when you

Shall wear an old man's suit and pine

For your youth, for your wife's youth

When apple pie tasted sweeter and

Sunshine rained down freely

Charlie

At the edge of my soul

you dance a graceful dance

more of a shimmer than a waltz

hauntingly breezy in my memory

the tinkling of your laughter shatters

the silence of my night and bares

witness to the hope of tomorrow.

Touches of you fill

every corner of my heart.

How grateful I am that you have

found your way safely home

and to our bed.

Christina Kay Brown

Love Story

From the corner of my vision you rise

steamy with dream waves of love mysteriously

floating from your smile and gleaming in your eyes.

The passion doesn't fade; to my secret amazement

but rather grows like moss on the north facing

tree...nobly holding my hand thru the tears.

Imagine your whispering laughter...grinning with

"Honey, all trees face north on one side."

Friday, March 19, 2004

The mirror answers my questions

there is a sparkle in my eye

a smile on my lips

a place in my soul with your name

reflect only the good

refract that which destroys

Daddy's girl

Night's perfect rebel

dances this way and that

never to be an old man

dreams sculpt your soul

temptation left you raw

death keeps us apart

and denies me the chance

to be a daddy's girl

Christina Kay Brown

The Ebb Of God

God flows thru my days like a gentle babbling brook. Flowing softly over those rocks on the left and pooling gently into a swimming hole in the middle that begs to be used in the hot summer sun. I know the creek is there of course, but sometimes it's taken for granted because it's where I built my house. I don't talk to others about God like I should-evangelist get on my nerves too. I hope that God instead speaks to people thru my lifestyle; thru my faith, thru my positive outlook and thru my unending calmness. When I do talk of God I tell people that it is God that blesses me...blesses my life. In my world I don't just spend Sundays with God. He fills my days and nights with light, with hope and with promise.

there's a poem in here somewhere

By reviewing the floors of my heart I find many sets of footprints people have left on my soul. Some of these people do not even realize they've left anything here at all for surely one or two of them would sneak back in the middle of the night to retrieve what is rightfully theirs. Some of the prints were left there in just a few days or weeks, but the love they showered me with surpasses some of the prints from people I feel I've known forever. These print leavers seemed to have look upon me as a fellow traveler and shared their love and grace completely. Other people have tromped across my life with slamming doors, harsh words and glares that I swear could have melted icebergs. Those are the tracks that I keep trying to scour, trying to remove the lingering pain that I only seem to notice whenever I have company...because company loves to look thru cupboards and closets, looking for proof that you are just as human as they are. They love to see how "clean" you keep your place and to inspect the scuff marks on your floors. Company looks for the fragileness that engulfs us all.

What God Looks Like

God must have a look but I think it varies from soul to soul, the soul is what recognizes His presence. God is the brightness of spring flowers, the truthfulness of primary colors and the billowy clouds that dot a Rembrandt sky. His favorite colors are green and blue. I know this because He made plants green and sky and water blue. This is also why green and blue go with everything...children know this by instinct. Children will always pare green and blue with other colors because they still remember what God told them before they got here. God smells like cookies and pies baking. He must because nothing makes a person feel safer than to think of their mother baking cookies. God sounds like small children singing...before anyone tells them they aren't singers. (Come and play, everything's A OK....) Can't you hear Him?

Detached

They linger stealthily in the corner of my soul.
They shimmer softly in the semi-light of dawn; waiting for me to open my eyes. The heart beats of those loved pulse in my ears and never fail. They keep vigil in my dreams.

my father
Holly
Gil
Grandpa Alvin
Grandma Louise
Jason
Holly's boyfriend (I see his face but his name escapes me)
Richard...his name was Richard
a brother or sister I won't meet until I get to heaven
my own baby that I miscarried
MaryAnn
Uncle Bob's mother

my great grandpa (boot-legger extraordinaire) whose cane I plan to use when I need one.

so many more that were "great" this or that
soon Linda.

My breath catches with every name.
And I believe.

Word Dancing

The mirror answers my questions

there is a sparkle in my eye

a smile on my lips

a place in my soul with your name

reflect only the good

refract that which destroys

Copyright ©2004 - 05 Christina Kay Brown

this is a place for poems and fledgling poems.

Distrusting you

(an old poem from 10/87)

An open window

pierced my midnight,

or was it daylight?

Your smile blinded

me, and my memory

lost itself.

But draw ever nigh;

He still loves us.

Wednesday, April 20, 2005

Fragrant beams of life

dart quickly over my face

expanding the evidence

being leaves within the

softly carved lines of living.

Gentle ways elude me

as life rages past, tenderness

seeps not from soul.

Constant battles against

the shallow certainty of

pure living fester within

my poet's heart redeeming

pains, joys and fate.

Manic laughs tinkle

over the spirit wiping

away the evidence of sin.

And the sun rises

just after midnight

astonished by your

greedy darkness.

Wednesday, April 6, 2005

white fog rolls

gently past the window

pane, nudging the fate

of your life lost

Saturday, May 28, 2005

The fever in your eyes

consumes all of me

leaving me grasping for

pieces of air, thirsty

and greedy for sanity.

At times the drone of

your soul can not be escaped

as easily as it once was.

I tried hard to forgive

your trespasses but resigned

to simply forget instead.

The poison lingers still

within the walls of your heat.

Passion cradles me

and delivers you.

In my dreams

your spirit will

always soar

and I look forward

to seeing you in heaven

because surely

He allows dogs.

my mate

never trusting a smile

that doesn't reach the eyes

snacking on innocence

and bathing in regret

finding vast fortune

in true love

that protects and

saves all at once

each time we dance

forgetting him a little more

all the while swaying

in the fragrant

tones of you

If I were poetry

the light would bend
willingly beyond
pure reason

tone would dance
gleefully around
our souls

like pirates let loose
on a sailing ship
headed towards sand

your soul would
causally ensnare me
serving words for dessert

entrapping the wind
within the walls
of a poet's heart

that is, if I were poetry

Wednesday, March 9, 2005

night stars glint

gently off and on

reminders of yesterday

when Pooh reigned story land

and Puff the Magic Dragon

alluded to fairytales

not illicit drug use

All stories began with

A Long Time Ago, In a Land Far, Far Away

and today existed softly

and Happily Ever-after

aging

at the edge of the abyss

calling out and listening

for the echoes of kindred souls

dancing crazily on the rim

of tomorrow, face towards

the Son and fingers grasping

tightly on the heartbeat

of forever, believing beyond reason

in the finality of faith

Sunday, March 20, 2005

Wind walkers stream

past us in ribbons

of purple and tainted

scent of lavender mix

glorious tinkles of young

girls giggling overfilling

notebooks of love

standing softly and barefoot

on the heart of a woman

who longs to remember you

with more than a sigh

Fragrant beams of life

dart quickly over my face

expanding the evidence

being leaves within the

softly carved lines of living.

Gentle ways elude me

as life rages past, tenderness

seeps not from soul.

Constant battles against

the shallow certainty of

pure living fester within

my poet's heart redeeming

pains, joys and fate.

Manic laughs tinkle

over the spirit wiping

away the evidence of sin.

And the sun rises

just after midnight

astonished by your

greedy darkness

Wednesday, April 6, 2005

white fog rolls

gently past the window

pane, nudging the fate

of your life lost

Wind walkers stream

past us in ribbons

of purple and tainted

scent of lavender mix

glorious tinkles of young

girls giggling overfilling

notebooks of love

standing softly and barefoot

on the heart of a woman

who longs to remember you

with more than a sigh

night stars glint

gently off and on

reminders of yesterday

when Pooh reigned

and Puff the Magic Dragon

alluded to fairytales

not illicit drug use

All stories began with

A Long Time Ago, In a Land Far, Far Away

and today existed softly

and Happily Ever-after

friendship of equal lengths

melts buttery and sideways

over life's plate

lingering in the crevices

quietly accepting syrups

nudging fate, stubbornly

refusing to mix

with love's fuzzy warmth

Sunday, February 13, 2005

mercy covers my eyes

gritty with the sand of

hastily built castles

the ones with fabulous

motes and towers

yet it is grace

that brings the waves

close enough to feel

and memory that warms

the ocean's very edge

Linda Schager Sunday, January 25, 2004

Monday

Monday still comes...
shall I save you a place?
Or will you no longer need
this ordinary day?

With your last breath
coming maybe tonight
many tears fall and hearts break.

Unborn grand children
are at your deathbed...
will you meet them in heaven
before they are born?

You have loved and been loved.

Your soul must be weary or
goodbye would have been harder.

Kiss God for me when you meet Him.
Will you save me a place?

Christina Kay Brown

Saturday, January 8, 2005

a delicate sliver

of health hangs

dangling from

silk promises of

tomorrow's

like a web jewel

waiting the care

of the widow's

eight black feet

that save me

Sunday, January 2, 2005

what fear lingers in my heart

without the light of truth

fear leaves a bitter taste

on my soul......

like apples or cherries picked

a bit too early for harvest...

the fear puckers my mouth

and leaves me wishing

for sunshine

for purity

for glowing snow

Friday, December 24, 2004

Christmas music

forever etched in my heart

echoes of Christmases past

release my soul and

prance in the quiet pleasure

that only His birth explains

Wednesday, December 1, 2004

Yet another poem of the past

Yesterday left its breath

slowly melting me

and today surprised

us both with the

kind glee neither one

has ever truly believed in

Fortunately for you

I closed the window

and ended the reign of

yesterday's storm

Sunday, October 24, 2004

frost lingers

following the warmth

of yesterday into

hopes of eternity

tempered by fear

captured on reluctant

beams of light

grace seeps from my pores

puddling on

the ground at my feet

overwhelming fear and

swimming tadpoles

litter my soul

His divine heat scares

even the fastest

baby frog

Wednesday, August 11, 2004

aging

Chase not forbidden butterflies

linger not in the icy stream of old love

loves that fled in the dawning of light

the vision is impaired and yet rhythmic

coming back to today, to tomorrow

unborn children dance across these pages

with the beat of a well written play

thump, thump, thumping their limbs

of green youth against the pulse of my heart

And my sorrows lie face to face on the

pen and paper journal seeming shallow

within a soul that has forever changed

within a woman quickly becoming new

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Ode to a best Friend

i found one of your ideas

swimming in my bathtub early

this morning.... it

as i wondered from whence it had come.

so perfectly round

so obvious as i lifted the lever

draining away the pain with

a gurgled wave~quickly i began

to scour the soap ring off my heart.

Friday, September 3, 2004

dreams float

touching the skyline

of my soul

whispering the promise

of love and peace

granting the grace

of a life well lived

piled in little groups among my feet

my most precious memories and heart breaking lies

letters and cards from people who love me

poems I've written for people I hate

A teacher's words ringing softly in my heart;

thus it is always easier to write convincingly

about anything but joy.

Happiness poems resonate with pretense.

Thursday, July 22, 2004

Prose Only

Jan 19, 1987

Yesterday was salted with tension and filth but today, today I discovered why the sun strives to thin the clouds. A winter chill can not set in the bones of someone whose sun is out.
Today memories became permanent; my childhood home was stripped of my family's presence. Boxes, mostly of junk, (when viewed as a whole) were swiftly loaded into a large hearse. And in the background large trees, that use to barely reach the sky, rocked slowly in our breeze.

Sunday, July 18, 2004

my Wedding poem

The Man I shall call Husband

The roads leading to you have not always been fair.
Sometimes more heartbreaking than I could endure
and, sometimes filled with laughter and light.

Our pasts shape our souls
and our future is a poem unwritten.

Reflections of my soul-mate consistently
lead to you; a man who is honest, humble, funny and kind.
Someone who treasures the richness of living but magically
charms the hearts of little children.
A man who knows who he is and who he is going to be.
Someone secure enough to abandoned life's seriousness
for joyful, passionate freedom.

Regrets on a wedding day feel passé
however my friend I truly have one...
that our roads did not cross sooner.
With you, the roads ahead are far less daunting.
With you, the cliffs and storms do not loom and frighten me.

Thus, with honor and great pride, you are
the man I shall call husband.

I love you completely,
Christina
July 17, 1999

Sunday, July 4, 2004

Fierce word warriors

linger in written passages

hungry for the

communion of souls.....

Dancing in virtual streets

wearing only grins

of love and acknowledgment.

Poets, writers and dreamers

form a bond of strength

with invisible walls of grace.

Celebrating community and

the passage of time.

a selection from my old paper & ink stuff 3-24-02

She writes her poetry on napkins

and on the back of dirty menus.

Hums "their" song while driving

in her ugly but road worthy car

she has littered with spare journals

in case a random, profound thought

dances across the windshield ...

Love is scattered across her soul and buried

beneath the incest, abuse and hateful pain

she has carefully hidden..

Pain creeps from her pores, leaking into

the spaces between her toothy smile

and twinkling brown eyes.

Her laughter shakes the sky

and turns heads.

Last time I saw her

she fancied Wicca and Women

but now its probably changed.

This impish woman who was never my sister

but always had my heart.

for him
Daddy's girl

Night's perfect rebel

dances this way and that

never to be an old man

dreams sculpt your soul

temptation left you raw

death keeps us apart

and denies me the chance

to be a daddy's girl

Saturday, June 19, 2004

Arizona

another selection from my paper & ink journals

I live in the

of the desert sun

in the silhouette of Phoenix.

Rising bird from

ash and death~

flying ever hopeful to 'morrow.

I've seen scorpions

mating in the wild

heard coyotes singing in

suburban hills

howling at nothing

and the moon.

I've seen rain sizzle

and tasted its youth.

ckb 4-12-02

Charley

Grace's fragrance dances
within the easy glow of you
wrapping us together until
you and I cease being
whilst Us takes over the floor...

Witness the flow of style
linked arm in arm circling
whole visions of love
engulfing all that I know.

Taste the color of love
effervescent with sugary glee
and giggly in my soul.

Wednesday, June 2, 2004

Teacher Man

{written for my high school creative writing teacher, Mr. Heller}

Your eyes still have splinters
of crystal in them, gathering the light
in Tyndall effect flashes.

The falsification feels faded; once
it felt transparent...

Braided lines~which you probably have
yet to notice, etched by too
many nights of pushing "The Bat Poet" at
your mud babies~distract me.

A tiny glare, from your glasses, humanizes
you and me. I've noticed moist anger
on the rims. Probably tears but you valiantly
claim it's only the splinters catching the light.

Haikus I wrote in the sixth grade....

Published in the Palomino Proudly Presents**now I'm off to find pictures.

Water

Lovely blue water,
calm as I sit by your side,
but ready to go!

Monday, May 31, 2004

1-12-82

there is a teacher i really try to like

i admire his atmosphere, the tone of

his mind but, there's a part that bothers

me...perturbs me like a random hair hanging

in my eye, he says "The numbers will work

if you would just let them."

i don't believe him.

Monday, May 31, 2004

October 1982

published in my High School poetry book

Margie

I cross a path of wisdom

grasping in the air at something

that doesn't exist,

and

just when I want to give up

and go away, you remind me.....

A healthy space of mind;

you share yourself,

your wisdom,

unselfishly.

I want to tell you that

I love you

but that doesn't seem powerful

enough, so I only smile.

Suddenly I feel as is

I am going to fall

and

just before I do you hold out

your hands, helping me to

cross another path.

Monday, May 31, 2004

9-14-94

old poem I found of mine~ I divorced him a year later

Whispers of justice hang
in the night air.
Betraying the solemn vow
of the day's heat.
How quaint that all things
~like hate~ fade with
the same certainty of
the rising sun.

Tomorrow holds the promise
of poets...fluffy happiness and gentle
peace; why do those restless
souls pine away for what can
never be? For what never was?

Joy surrounds me with
the scent of an English rose garden ... too
colorful to be a true retreat
~~carefree enough to be an accident.

A contradiction of terms, a poem.

Sunday, May 23, 2004

It wasn't an ordinary gift; it was a ring she

believed made her a pirate. (Something she aspired to.)

The ring sang to her about ocean breezes, blender drinks and sun.

It gave her glimpses of a better way...a way without anger and pain.

The ring eliminated death from her life.

Helped her to feel brave in the face of it all.

The stone was close to six carats, oval and cushion cut.

(Even the cut was romantic.)

It was destined to become a family heirloom, the subject of

many great tales...pirate tales of hope, love and adventure.

Tales of deserted islands, tropical flowers and colorful birds.

She loved the ring.

Besides, blue topaz is the exact color

of her mother's eyes...eyes she'd never truly been able to

describe but which were jewels in her heart. Eyes that have

danced thru the pages of poetry more than most.

Crystal clear blue, sparkly and pure.

The ring was a gift from her mother who gave the ring

against her better judgment....(mom wanted it too.)

She was thirty-five.

She had finally become a pirate.

Tuesday, May 11, 2004

holding my breath

remembering what your heartbeat

sounded like

in a box somewhere

in this mess is a video

of when you

I loved you and shall forever

I dream of you from time to time

your death was agony for me my child

I wanted you more than life and now

there will never be another

peace comes in knowing that Jesus

now rocks your cradle when you cry

~I wonder what name He calls you by?

~I wonder if I'll know you in Heaven?

Thursday, April 29, 2004

My fear of grace lingers

inside my coffee cup

swirling the remnants

as I ask again about

your wishes, your dreams.

You don't remember me do you?

When you knew me

I was younger, more innocent.

I didn't drink coffee then.

And you....you were stormier

dark with thunder and wind

terrifying in your sin

your glance use to burn

and now you simply glimmer...

fools gold found

lurking in the bottom

of my cup.