I Still Wait

morning light

silent flight

streaming mind

sadly drawn rewind

lives apart

play a part

known reaction

kind connection

fearful resign

beckons we are fine

yet we are not

well one

wishes two

a solo endeavor

will follow

a bird song swallow

will always plead

may she exceed

social punity

natural beauty

oh to endure the night …

always here, mourning light.

On a Pattern of Dismissal

Select words,

chosen interpretation,

 

Moments in a sunrise,

the songs of a night sky

melodic in nature,

we could perhaps design

a medley of fortune

in listening to what it is we believe,

 

What is a wish

would scream

some shallow serenade

if when watching a moon

fade into distant clouds,

interferes upon the serenity

of a silent love story.

 

Select words,

chosen interpretation

 

When last we spoke

a heavy burden,

the tears would flow

creating puddles on a pavement

no longer welcome

to the notion of an embrace,

rather quiet repose.

 

When whilst

lives will continue

seems quite a stir

in the mind

who once in a glorious afternoon,

knew love beyond

sweet sensuality,

and instead,

spoke to the beauty

inherent in hers …

a wonder in elegance.

 

Select words,

chosen interpretations.

Silence Has No Echo

moon

A quiet morning ride,

a setting moon across the western horizon,

one might imagine,

two soul

similar reaction to a skyline

perhaps in the silence of a drive

we could now realize

hearts are no longer isolated

everyone if they pay attention

will see the same

in the symbolic nature of life

as it were,

beyond the sweet echo

we could choose

to no longer,

a symbolic gesture …

recognize recall.

What Measure Is Love

Who determines,

inside a dream we fly,

yet so quickly the descent

if once begun.

there finds no true answer

why.

 

Oh there is promise

the look in one’s eyes

to suggest this,

what a moment might

contain

could forever be in our

sky.

 

Clouds appear

we brush them aside,

for it is now,

not later,

the overcast nature

of indecision

will hurry past our lives

will eventually answer

nigh

 

There was this time,

once,

when she might show me

a tear,

it was love,

some kind of sensibility,

until that day,

when she turned away,

my words

she no longer

understood,

though she could

let me go,

knowing I might,

safely

cry.

I Knew Love

Now when I see passion

spread upon satin sheets entwined

a pang remains

reminders

a fantasy might travel miles

yet the road runs out

a barren landscape

whereby recall

manifests a desert of wander

trying in desperation

chilly oasis

of familiarity.

 

Now today only reminders

of the changing winds

no longer prevailing

far away

and brisk

with a certain chill

suggests some frozen reality?

lost inside the fear

when will be

a thaw

 

That if will not return …

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

audience

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 ~

Waking With Purposeful Shades

ED7977C5-FF18-44BE-A5BB-B92A19E732BB.jpegI don’t wish to see the light

only the shadow

of my quiet reality

me and my animal now

her eyes

just love

no agenda drawn

a quiet wonder of some seeming

loyalty

not feigned

no imagination

just silent breathing

waiting

perhaps there is wonder

yet she will

always know

always be

always … awaiting me

always she may trust my presence

always here.