Muted

  
We have lost the true language of love. Not the music, flesh meeting flesh,

But the language, kindness meeting kindness and loving speech cradled

By silence, the heart that listens solely for the joy of knowing yours.

Without this we are but broken instruments, 

Left embittered with sad memories and fading hope

Having forgotten our way home.

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More Gently Than Frost

Refusing all invitations
You are excluded by no one.

Trusting no one
you are never deceived.

Bright and strong
you are never defeated.

Green thorns grow on bare stems
beneath the spring sun,

As if holding fragile blooms
safe from corruption.

Take my hand let us gather flowers;

we will hold them more gently than frost.

On Winter nights, your heart frozen,

your eyes weeping snowflakes that gather,

 In drifts around an empty bed;

there you may learn
that tears are only water
to make the heart grow.

A note to my daughter

Driving nearly 2 hours round trip 

to Share an Easter brunch

between school work and homework.

It amazes me how much beauty and joy

I receive 

from the gift of Your consideration

Having earned a place in your mind and heart is surely

one of my most meaningful accomplishments.

Love, Dad