If She Might Ever Know

It will be only she

my mystique

her muse

I listen to a soft cello

in sad tears in the background

they cry out her notes

of waning despair,

I wonder if she might ever  know

will only be her.


Oh I’m told I have a flirt

in my body,

there is a smile

a curvaceous sometime

appeal come playful

that is apparent

in the light of day,

in a quiet darkness,

yet there is no one

causes me such

passion to want to please

then her,

when near me

I might again find her eyes

under a blue moon,

and together we could play

with the music of our lives.


How is it possible

that in a world of similar

being, pattern, lifestyle

that a singular moment

would create

such a yearn

that would swallow any other

massive audience of similarity,

so that this one


would be our own

soft and passionate, our quiet,

our silent,

heart and soul.


It is she whom I cry for, I muse,

I lose my direction apart her mystique.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

A Shifting Sunrise

There are days when it can be felt

a morning solace, peace of mind

a sort of reason to be able to thrive.


We count on those hours with hope,

not like planning the night before –

oh tomorrow will be that day.


We just feel it in our pores

we know the rains will come steady

as will a basking sunlight of freedom.


We just don’t know when we might

be asked, handle both in the same hour.

~ finding my way, a personal journey ~

for Zelda

This Being The Year

my decision made,

I went many years

living this

imagining this

something that never became


I met you

I realized truth

I went through hell one time

I swore I never would again

now here we see

this is our destiny


Leaving again she said

listen to the winds

they are meant to be …


I cannot agree

the selfish part of me

gave myself

now I am alone


The winds of change

were not meant for you and me

The winds of change mean


stay this one together …

this being the year


~ I’ve found my way ~

goodbye my love

My Banner

Shall it say pleasure

or paltry

compassionate with need

Or combative

in his

untimely urgency.


when all is defined

how might the grind

his human condition

measured upon her own.

An onlooker might gingerly glance beyond

the sensory nature of


ignorance within

certain surreal

entrapment, that her legacy be

shadowed sorely

inside his own



Like Watching

It felt like watching

a whole life

by design.

What he did

might we try,

what she wanted

he may find a tear.


Seemed silly then

to imagine

a life of his own

when everyone around

already lived the same,

the epitome of our



Yet we might all try again

despite knowing the once before.


~ finding my way, a personal journey ~


Wherever You Go


‘the universal coffee shop’

I will wonder with my every day

thinking about places, times, memory

wandering through my mind

is the what ifs,

the wise

that turn into all of the why.


I look around the room,

people in their lives

she’s holding a cup of coffee

embracing her own


I am curious

knowing nothing about

what might be on her mind,

caught in the crossfire

never knowing why.


If I could step away,

would it get any easier,

or would the constant reminder

be the final days

rather than the beauty of when,

while the world existed around us,

there was that moment

lasted forever,

way back then we too,

were always asking, why.


Long narrow hallways,

sun-streaked table tops,

not where anyone might imagine,

just my own quiet refuge

where I might look at the faces around me,

knowing little conclusion

beyond our own private

human condition,

with the internal why


seldom revealed.


~ just finding my way, a personal journey ~