“There is snow on my face and wind in my hair and winter has nearly stolen me. But as I remember the words of our song then spring still owns a part of me.”

Take me from this wasteland, for I have longed for an escape like a bird that craves the wilderness, from every corner of his cage.

Sometimes it is not about the touch at all it is about the hands they belong too.

Bitter sweet rose her thorns pierce every bone, but her lustful petals fall like bandaids for bleeding sores.

A flower grows where it is planted but love grows everywhere.

Mountains speak in peaks and troughs. Just like life. And just like love.

I will always have a little bit of the wild in me. Always remembering what a good heart tastes like. Like love, that never ends. Like you.

Some days I wonder how I can become more then I think of you and I grow with love.

We choose our gardens based on what will bloom, and we wait out the seasons, until they do. And sometimes, love needs patience too.

Catch my fall as my wings ignite with love and the sky and I unite.

I’ve been that children, learning to walk. Somedays I’ve fallen, and some days I’ve crawled. But the steps, they grew. And so did my strength. And then I let go of your hand.

You are the book I keep closed, for some stories are not easy to read. But flowers bloom in between like the story is still alive.

The more I branch out, the less lonely I feel. I often wonder if trees are like that, too.

She teaches me I am boundless and free. She teaches me my past does not define me.

Love me later when the sun fades into the horizon and the distance between you and I melts away.

Maybe all these tears are leading me somewhere. Because when the sun meets rain, something beautiful emerges. And perhaps I am a rainbow in the making.

Words are weighted messengers that can break when they drop but a moments pause is the harness that keeps them from falling.

Seeing your face so high in fragments on the sky, your voice in the wind, just one day I’d like to be in your arms once again.

He who faces no calamity gains no courage.

I’m looking for the face I had, before the world was made.

A good heart will help you to a bonny face, my lad and a bad one will turn the bonniest into something worse than ugly.

No spring nor summer beauty hath such grace as I have seen in one autumnal face.

Deep in the heart of the infinite darkness, a tiny blue marble is spinning through space. Born in the splendor of God’s holy vision, and sliding away like a tear down his face.

She may know a little, may think of herself, face and body, as ‘pretty’ but he could never tell her all the rest, how many other living things, birds, nights smelling of grass and rain, sunlit moments of simple peace, also gather in what she is to him.

Stop your ears and close your eyes and try to find the face of love.