You are free to
the beauty in
your brokenness, to caress
your chest rising above panicked
breath forces to shore.
cornucopia I adore,
seashells washed up on
sounds in store for us.
At the edge of young forests, a chorus where horizons of blue
placed down dry land for you,
as white sands.
I saw the puzzle in your hands and tried to complete it, but it only shapeshifted to my dance.
Terraforming like water, our movements seemed planned but were spontaneous, seeds sprouting by pure chance until blossom was the dominant gene.
You are allowed to
fall and learn, little
The pebbles that bruise your arms are mountains to lesser mortals, but no one asked for gods, however remorseful we are for the loss.
You’ve all the magic to master the science of my awe, in lock and step with elements, in
or early morning fog.
I sought to inspire but you captivated my wanderlust with a gust of laughter and fields of lavender beyond