Perfect Lines

Streams of lines chase away my sour heart,

Willing me to find my way back to the

Perfect patterns within the flowers.

Gardens make disarray seem like a dream.

Blueprint found in the sharp spears of green.

The star’s glints of gold grow steadily stronger

With each whisper of the passing breeze.

Strangers leave their footprints among this sodden soil.

Neighbors dig deep circles to plant their sorrow in.

There’s a balance to our dreams, like seeds

Of dandelion down I’ve propelled away with a breath.

The upset clouds drop tears into the dark beds,

Beds where callused hands rip weeds away, to protect

Their infant’s hesitant slumber.

The questions we’re afraid to ask, that make our

Life seem endless, they are answered in the trees

As our ideas shine bright among

The softness of the peach tree’s buds.

The intricate details of my life disappear as shoots climb higher.

They stand as high-rises to the insects that lie below.

Untamed memories of car horns and shuffling feet,

Find a relief here among the striving branches

Of plants that grow for a single day,

Rather than waste their time on wishes.

They know mortality is upon their leaves,

As the moon leaves their side each dawn.