january leaves and spring love - poetry collection

past the blue cypress trees, thriving

down street that's green and winding
there is an apartment,
or a village ,
or whatever you'd rather call it.
it stands nestled,
that corner of heaven i so often dream of
with pink walls,
blue cypress trees, thriving,
and a white glow of promise.
somthing to say about purity
newness, clean slates, and unworn shoes.
an elegy of my past,
no eulogies, please.
greenery climbs up the walls
of my urban desk jungle
and my walls display my happiest moments.
i've said i love you in this room more times than relationships before.
i've cried less in this room than rooms before.
i've had sex in this room more loving than i have before.
and it's something about the number 7, and it's something about the letter C. it's something about the road less travelled and the parking lot never full.
it's something about lack of proximity to horror in my life.
and it's definitely about the cypress tree outside my window, where birds make their nests, and people walk by, and the leaves fall, and the seasons change, and heaven comes, comes and comes more every day.
it's a road past civilization
nestled between cypress trees,
where animals flock,
and the pink walls cast a rosy glow over this corner of heaven.