Jeff McCallum

There is a pale, cold pastel to everything when someone I love is dying and I am in love. They intertwine, pleach, form a hedge which hides and a shelter from the heat of the moment as I walk the path of joy and sorrow.

Would I could

call the wind

whisper light

lift the petals of your flowering eyes

to view the stars within

Would I could

call the rain

mist and dew

drop gentle on your silk soft cheek

to see all sorrow wash away

Would I could

call the moon

cast pale light

lavish on the shadow of your almost smile

to see the pearls within

Would I could

call the earth

part as paramour

pleach the core of soaring soul

to view the stars within

Would I could

command the universe

race to meet your gentle heart

hold you as a sacred seed

to see the flowers within