Love Poems

I was dusting
the shelves of my

When a tiny
slender book
fell open at my feet.

It was a journal
of delicate love poems.
The words spoken
over time.

I turned page
after page after page
returning to the written
moment of the
hour, day, and even year.

It was like standing
in a rush of wind
hearing the song
of flying cherry blossom petals
and a swirling rainbow of maple leaves.

Your singing
brought tears;
a leaf riding
the waters
into the tumultuous

Smudging the ink
as I turned yet
another page
I understood
what I read.