Dear Diary,

What do I write about when I have nothing to write about?

When my lips have nothing to say?

Do I paint for you portraits
of hollow chimes adrift
in dew whose songs
mesmerize with
each sway of
the wind’s
caress?

Do I liken you to a single rose
who has but endured a
winter’s wrath to
weave a quilt
of fragrant
hues?

Or do I reflect upon my life as it is,
to tell you how much I treasure
the privilege of being able to
help you, to care for
you, whenever
you are
ill?

Do I try to express how tremendous my
heart feels when I tell you that it is
going to be alright, or when we
know that it may not, that
we will conquer it
together?

Do I admit to you that whenever you
smile, my day is brightened,
my heart is warmed,
and that when you
weep, my soul
tears with
you?

And do I tell you how much I appreciate you-
your presence, your courage- as you
battle through your illnesses,
uncertainties, and fears-
while reminding you
that you are an
inspiration
to me?

So what do I do when my lips can find no words?

I suppose I let the heart speak.

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