Keyless is my lock, yet I readily surrender myself completely,
to my thinning skin with shadows of whispers and prickling flesh.
Secrets buried beneath a stratum of my dried and cracking crust,
as my haunting heart hungers for a yielding stillness, I can truly trust,
until my essence is so sweetly scented fading back into ash and dust.
Struggling to forget that remembrance resembling an unmarked grave
of a magical innocence lost in fall’s carpet of leaves and forgotten times.
Buried just beyond the massive Willow oak of my youth and its crimes.
Colors mix with nature’s caress and fresh air which carries me lovingly away
from nightmares that swiftly strike their sword to diminish childhood play.
For now, carved, a shelter delicate yet strong like an egg’s armor where I feel,
safe, as my breath is like a song which sends forth my overwhelming love
upon the wings of the sparrow or the red chested Bleeding-Heart dove.
Coming safely here to cry, tears of dancing joy seen only in a child’s face,
yes, peace has beckoned and lighting-bugs circle sweet Gardenias in a vase
where locks don’t exist, and fairies sing when Angels dance in my magic place!
By Joni Caggiano 02/01/20 – Photo by Joni