Yellow wings 

We do the same things
Make the same mistakes

Punish ourselves needlessly without good reason


For feelings and emotion

Ripping off the band aid

And that’s the way it’s supposed to end


That’s what we hate the most

What’s expected out of us from the insignificant voices

So you follow the road predestined

Shut out the happy 

Listen to sad songs

Delete the good that kept you real

Mope around and look for replacements 

Not this time

No more

It’s time to grow

Yellow butterflies fly in the sunlight of your garden

Seeking out life’s nourishing nectar

Blowing freely with the breeze

Overhead are faces in the clouds against the blue

The smell of flowers and fresh earth calm you

Peacefully you watch the bluebirds fly away

The swifts crackle in the air

You don’t want to leave 

There’s no good reason 

But the time is past

It’s time to plan for the next

Because you have to they say

Pick your flowers and leave the ground barren

But you can’t take away the skies

The sights and sounds change

But there’s still peace

The nights are chilly and quiet

But there’s comfort in this place

Like none other

Put on a thick skin

You can think about the pedals and stems

Their  roots are deep

Cover them so they don’t freeze

And focus on the autumn leaves

Watch Orion in the night

Build a fire for warmth and light

And wait for the sun to rise

Lean back and think

Speak softly to the dark

And don’t stop smiling

There will be endless new springs

Endless blooms and things with wings

The snow on your face feels nice too

Don’t let what was good bring pain

It’s a bad choice

This is where you belong

What you need and want

Bouquets weren’t the only source of joy

It was the morning walks

The plans

The excitement and work 

Each little moment

Talking in the morning

And not wanting to go to sleep at night

The little things lost

If you leave them behind

Like the world tells us

Like we think we need to

Like bleeding hearts 

Hurting ourselves

For no reason


I’ll miss you

Not the things we do

Or have done

The idea of what we won’t

That’s what hurts 

And it’s all little things nobody else will ever know

Not the flowers

That define us

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