By Athena Stairs, November 10, 2026
My heart seeks where it will
Waits by the window sill
Watching for signs until
It grows tired of age in grieving
And then it begins again
Always looking for its friend
The one who can and will amend
While daring to be imperfect
Yet it isn’t a simple treatise
Nor attempt to gain attention
In needing the right fit for me
Not the simplest of inventions
And when I think of you and me
I don’t need a crown nor family tree
But the wind rustling through our leaves
And further love lost preventions
Wherever that I go will you follow
And lead me to those sacred fires?
Dissolving pain we’ve known before
Gold into cracks as forms made whole
An alchemist’s riddle I proffer
One that relies upon imagination
A match to light the kindling hot
To stir the cauldron brighter
A wisp of smoke with jolt to head
And a heat inside meant to smolder
A tale of two made into one
Transformed as we grow bolder
