Goodbye, Wendy.

The embellishments of life
collect at our feet, with peeping suns
perking the flowerbeds, nestled gently
in between moments of toes-
those prints a collection of all that
is dichotomously joined:
weariness, joy, youth and age.

Strange homed harmonies, 
shared with the delicate bindings of
every soul lovingly pocketed,
found in the intricate spiral of
a dancing fingerprint. 

Yet carried in this bookshelf lies
the centering of being, our steps
sometimes long-drawn and tired,
but ignited in each wisdom gained
tremulously in the pickets of a breath. 

When treading feet gaze upon 
these disquiet rests, lay beautifully in
the sounds of all that has been forged,
loud and bespoken, although weary, 
burning alight for all eternity,
like a walk in the sun
beneath your flowerbeds.