Backstage

If I crack open my hours & make room for you

Will you waste it?

’ve wielded words into weapons

But for you

I admit

I slip & fall into mundane love

I wasn’t looking but somehow

I found you

My limbs fold a bedtime of your speech

I am well rested

I want a garden of love - so full

We leave no room for ego to bloom

Peace like weeds

choke it out at the root

This poem is not in the book but it is a favorite.

I love you . . . but

getting all this applause only wanting an encore of your smile

believe her