Angel's Wings
I would like one of these tall beings who walks upon the desert sand, their feet uburnt by the grains of quartz, to fly over th esmooth ridges of his brown wind bloqn sea, and fall softly like a scattering of petals into your hand.

Perhaps the scent of roses and the crushed softness of feathers will reach you where I cannot.

Missed
I am not one to dramatically promise that I will never love again but you were automatic as milk in my coffee didn't realise how essential you were to me until you were gone waking up without you brings tears to my eyes five years after I left you I still don't like my coffee black.

Song of Ruth
I would like the bright light of your love to scoop me up, rub me like wheat between your fingers, then pour the kernels of me into your palm and cup me there, letting the chaff blow into the wind