These are but vain attempts to express, by one who wears her heart on her sleeve. Words, much like love, can be ever elusive... ever frustrating... like trying to paint a million stories on a single canvass. If you will read, please do not ask. Just feel. Or at least try to. The meaning is, whatever you have felt to be there, or the lack thereof :)


i miss
early morning talks
brewed coffee
long walks, dancing
under falling orange blossoms
of firetrees in summer.
towering sunflowers
no zombies are allowed
to eat brains;
the bronze man
in his glorious nakedness;
talking to
empty fields and trees
that listen.
heartbreak hill.
gonzalez hall.
breathless runners
at the acad oval.
and the encouragements of Zorro.

i miss
your micro-climates
and your microcosm.
you were also my own
little world -
won over with sweat and tears
and not a small number of years;
and one  I'd always
return to.

August Bernadette 


no band-aids, no dressing,
no stitches, no glue
need them no more
already good as new

how come, asked they
were there elves last night
or fairies that turned up
a stitch or two?

nothing grand,
only that
last night when it was darkest
i offered my patched-up heart to You.

**all Glory to You my Heart-Keeper and Light-Giver

August Bernadette 
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