Jigsaw Falling into Place

Here love exists.
In our house with yellow walls and white curtains that flutter like ghosts.
we collect sea shells, Hope, brooms, gods and those lost and wandering.

Here love exists.
We create. Images wrap themselves around our fingertips.

Little parts of our soul washes out in ink on paper.

Here single Brushstrokes can erase storms.
Technicolour dreams hang on every ceiling like clothes from a line or perhaps stars in the sky.
Purplesky.watermelonred. the soft gold that lines clouds.
the green that exists only in the heart of a grape.

Water in my eye. in the sky

The moon on a leaf
or water.

some cold mornings everything shimmers
water hangs on your skin like stars

never seen by waking eyes. Under moving skies.
I shrunk to the size of me little finger

and lost myself in wildflowergalaxies

and wildflowers
rose like towers
who could tell the difference.