Letting go of life’s handles,
she lights darkness a candle.
Crawling into bed,
love, brighter shades of blues,
dreaming in her head.
Fine, art, softly painted side.
Love, floating like she’s always been there,
like she’s never left with the tide.
Thought of that black and white window tonight,
when she stood at that window.
Letting go of life’s weather,
she floats on evening feathers
leaving what she wore,
black, purple, shades of blue,
sleeping on the floor.
She’s art, as eyes trace her lines.
Whispering ‘here’, like she’s always been fair,
like she’s never committed a crime.
Thought of that black and white window tonight,
when she stood at that window.
We listened to breathing,
the two of us that evening.
this is your life chuck johnson 