The fear we have of sharing love of allowing someone to touch our hearts.
So came this little poem as I thought about these flowers. They seemed so full of love.
This is one of my flowers photographs, from one of my shows.
When the night called me, I closed my ears to her call.
The voice I knew well painful was its memory.
I listened as fireflies buzzed past my ears.
As nimble things jumped off my face, and still she called to me.
No I answered as the moon hid its tearful face, no I cried as the clouds rained down on me.
No I whispered as she called me in the night.
And finally I held my ears, but she was still calling me, as I cried out for help.
The night was my enemy, she came when all were sound asleep, and I was wide awake.
I’d leave my bed and wander halls, that smelled of her perfume.
And there in the darkness, her voice spoke to me.
Love has no place to hide no darkness to shield the truth.
Your fears of sharing who you are, not strong enough to hide your needs.
You stumble down lonely halls, your heart it cries for love, and you the man of
broken hearts, afraid to have yours touched.
I listen to her damning voice it echoes in the woods, you can’t run from love, you need it just like I.
I turn to face the darkness and there between the trees I see her standing there.
But shes been dead for oh so long like I, but not my crying heart.