the perfect kiss

 

 

i asked for this stone from your garden,

smooth blood red riven with cracks and scars.

it was too hard and cold

in the mid morning sun.

 

you took it and wiped off the dirt

and then handed it back smiling and

it felt good in my hand

like your fingers around mine.

 

when i asked you for it,

the sun was shining in your eyes and

you said of course,

like giving away red stones from your garden

 

was the easiest thing

in the world.

 

 

Dianna

 

i miss writing poems with you

our special dialogue

full of mysteries and rooms with closed doors

together we walked down a sidewalk of flowers

collecting skies and wind

and our poems like bright sweet candy

wrapped in neon colors

surprising and delicious

bringing smiles

secret and overt

like footprints disappearing in the middle of the snow.