Flashes of moments painted on giant oak trees

shadows dancing in the moonlight,

projections from long fingers of time across

the majestic foliage fabric in dark olive green,

collecting dew drops and waiting

for the right moment to trickle down the veins

and gather in one large drop down

towards the waiting cup held in the hand

of she who sits beneath peeling grapes

and the layers of a costume that has long

worn out its welcome,

recovery in finding a new hobby,

her own life, a lifetime committment

to putting together her self,

the self she always was and

no one knew she was until

she started to be,

undressing slowly for her audience,

revealing her skin once square inch

at a time, letting the garments gather

around her like a devoted dog

curled to keep her warm,

waiting for her cue

to step into the spotlight

and allow what has always been

to reveal itself,

life given from the splash

of white gold overflowing her cup

and washing her clean,

awakening and returning to

what was meant to be, 

welcome home my first love.

welcome back to me.