The clouds thin grey speeds across a pale sky
quiet as suppressed sighs.
Green and bright your absence comes to mind
a hundred tiny white flowers with a proud dark heart.
Shadows soft to the touch follow my eyes
as your fingers paint out of the corner of time
slowly in colours of red, yellow and blue.
The past leads me back to my uncle's artist studio
the scent of oils still in my smile, when sleep
came swift and deep and dawn was a song of peace.
Across an ocean of understanding and loss
you came along like a man with no horse
in a desert of melted clocks and cactus.
Alice and the rabbit she chased down the hole
tear up my dress and shoes, I cannot find
the key that would allow me an audience with you.
A hundred tiny white flowers floating around my soul
I laugh as I pull on the edges of your worn out coat
stained so beautifully with the canvases of your dreams.
Trudi Ralston.
June 3rd, 2015.
For a fellow traveler.
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