petals of memories...

It's a Sunday
 Miss Clara Nwaoko,
                     whispering in your ear,
                     nudging a "hello" between our souls.
               My kiss brushes across your cheek,
                                                  your smile,
                                                  remembers me.
               Across the Aurora our nights fade.
               Wall of being,
                             there can be no distance between us!
               My loneliness -a chamber of echoes....
      heart is pitched on the brink of breaking.
See Clara? -what silly things I write.

My words are stuck together with
"krazy glue"; there are moments,often when...It's hard to explain.
             Like lint the alphabet;static electricity from my
             thoughts re-arrange all those vowels and consonants.
                 some passing fancies,
                                     are just late bloomers.
                 look along the path we walked yesterday afternoon....
                                      wildflowers, petals of memories.
                 join in? ...I'm afraid.
                                          We could dazzle each other with
                                                  encouraging thoughts.
                                          For a while our time-lines
                                                             are meeting,
                                          shooting stars.
I stopped just long enough,
   to watch you,
                walking in the fields.
  I blew a kiss along the breeze to touch your lips;
              with love, you turned....
                       you thought ...I was too distant to recognize....
              'Twas another..... I was closer than that,
                                                   hidden in a rose.
                                 Our tears,
                                  followed the contours of our dreams.

  Miss Clara Nwaoko,
   Gee Whiz Clara, I didn't expect....
                                      Among the change and growth
                                      among the hills of our souls,
                   we wait in split-second anticipation.
                   Of course, the magic remains, is shared
               Snowflakes are the same as fireflies
                                          thoughts fly
                                                     into cellular
                                                 molecular ignition!
Sincerely, Peter
my letter,
Clara, I was remembering
someone lost to me.
I can write ordinary
 letters to you. Okay?
  --nothing romantic
~~Peter K. Ligeski

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