A Poem A Day, Poem #44

asked about inspiration, i take a muse breath--
leave little replies all over the air as if crystals of lazy,
streaming snowflakes were sliding streaks of girl
silhouettes all over the strands of these skies--
instead of stuttering some stupid statement colored
by mumbled metaphors and missed kisses

as i walk away from questions, i wonder, even myself,
why your hands hold all the pretty flowers, their curves
and their colors, their fragility,
what do the stars say that make me hear your name at night?
and why is it that the better beauty of the beasts we are
bubbles, always, back to you, inviting friends and fingers
over for poems, lovely lie-down lullabyes that decorate my
heart with meaningful metaphors and bluer moondrops
that shine for paper birds, waking up words full of wanderlust
wings and willow trees