Today’s prompt invites something beautifully structured yet deeply personal: write a poem where every stanza carries the same number of lines—steady as breath, consistent as a heartbeat—and let it guide the reader somewhere. Not just across words, but inward. Instruction becomes ritual. Form becomes a kind of map.
There’s something old-world about that idea—like passing knowledge by firelight, one step at a time. Poetry, at its roots, has always been this: not just expression, but direction. A way forward. A way back.
And today, I chose “back.”
Back to something softer. Wilder. Untamed.
This one is for my wife—on her birthday.
Not just to celebrate the day she was born, but to remind her of who she has always been beneath the noise of the world. Life has a way of layering expectations, responsibilities, and quiet compromises over the truest parts of ourselves. But some spirits were never meant to stay buried.
Hers is one of them.
This poem is a set of instructions—not rigid, not demanding—but gentle, almost whispered. A path back to her hippie soul, her free-hearted nature, her laughter that once danced without hesitation. It’s written like a journey through color and memory, something a little psychedelic, a little dreamlike… like following smoke that somehow leads you home.
It’s about remembering that the truest self is never lost—only waiting.
✨ Happy Birthday, my love. May you always find your way back to yourself.
“Return by Starlight, Barefoot”
Take off your shoes at the edge of the day,
let the noise fall loose, let it drift away,
follow the hum where the wildflowers sway.
Open your palms to the wind in your hair,
there’s a girl still dancing, she’s waiting in there,
paint on her laughter, breathe in her air.
Close both your eyes till the colors arrive,
violet and gold like a heartbeat alive,
sip from the moment—don’t just survive.
Walk through the smoke of your younger self’s fire,
she’s barefoot and spinning in skirts of desire,
call out her name like a long-lost choir.
Lie in the grass where the old roads bend,
listen for echoes that never quite end,
the earth is your mother, the sky is your friend.
Unlearn the weight that the world made you wear,
set down the silence, the practiced despair,
truth isn’t tidy—it’s wild and unfair.
Taste every second like honey and wine,
time is a circle, not just a line,
you were always hers—she was always thine.
When doubt comes crawling, soft as a thief,
wrap it in music, unravel its grief,
joy is rebellion, belief is relief.
Turn toward the sun even late in the night,
you carry the dawn in the depths of your sight,
love is a compass that always points right.
And when you forget—because sometimes you will—
climb back inside where the world goes still,
she’s there in the quiet… she always will.
Keep chasing the light. Keep dancing in the strange and beautiful. Keep being exactly who you are beneath it all.
Happy birthday Rosalynne, my beautiful wife.
🌿✨🔥💫🌙💛
Oh my. What a lucky woman your wife is. This is a gorgeous poem. Thanks for writing and sharing it here. Happy Birthday to your wife. Blessings to you both.