It has just the right colors to make it what it is,
but without one of them,
it wouldn’t make sence.

It starts at one end, going up and up,
but then it eventually
comes back down.

It can be hard to find; so step back;
it can be right in front of you
Don’t be in a hurry to find it,
slow down and look around you,
it will come to find you.

It can be bright and beautiful,
but with one ounce of darkness,
it’s gone
Call it the luck of the Irish
or a promise to the world even.
But when one person finds it they
share it with the world.

Looking at it regularly can make it blurrry,
but when you squint at it,
you can see its true colors.
No one quite knows where it comes from,
or has ever found the end.
But most of all it’s like the pot of gold;
at the end of every rainbow…

is it really there?

The way your hair blows
In a gentle caressing breeze
I taste the smoke rising
From the faraway flames
That bring you closer.

The beating of two hearts
Thudding together as one
Makes me remember
Our time together
And what we shared

It almost hurts to bring to mind
The sweet memory
My tongue relishes the feel
Of something that I can’t
Explain
Things that are forever unwritten
But never forgotten

In case your eyes forget
And your mouth ceases to remember
Those things that you said
You would be so proud of
Just run a finger along the edge of a soul
The price of your forgetfulness
Is remembrance