Look outside the sunlight shadows the morning mood,
there’s a partial overcast sky,
suggests an incomplete meaning,
there would seem to be a distant pain
exists in her heart.
He would try to simply hold on to measure,
the beating pulse of angst she wish
would a challenge meet his own heart,
a desire beyond the normalcy
of knowing love could be trusted
without necessary definition.
We do imagine what our heart believes,
that if in a sudden turn,
her eyes might be in his again,
he would take her tears and meet them with his own,
in this moment the door would be open,
if the sudden luxury of peace,
could then step inside the vacancy
left bruised in
A slow burn,
the gradual release
when the mind,
chooses to listen
rather then react to the news.
I know I love,
hearts strings touch reality
exist in my every breath,
each moment I glance,
the look is for her eyes.
Yes there is a certain peace
when no longer the confusion
implies a fabrication,
or suggests impulsivity.
Today the warmth of truth,
skin against skin,
I do, did, will touch the world
when in my arms
she allows me to carry her heart.
My soul, your mystique,
my life, your love,
the beauty of passing time,
our energy real,
Sweet muse, sweet love,
in my soul I sing aloud,
I breathe freely,
my heart feels whole
I find the strength to move forward,
in the reminder of her beauty,
that which I could only grasp a real,
no longer any sweet fantasy.
I stand along a river edge in memory,
the sunlit banks of summer,
her hands in my hair, mine in her own,
we did know our surroundings.
In the wonder of time, my life an event,
now the curtains close and dust
begins to settle around the swept wood
where our dance would stir the world.
I, in fond retrospect, hold only one regret
when to imagine the elegance of love,
one could only hold on to dreams alone,
just nostalgic recall of her delight.
While every motion, each autumn stood near
we did a spectacular journey appreciate,
the hands of care , the eyes of certain demand.
Those were the minutes of our time.
Would love ever allow our reality to swoon,
in the shadow of a neighbor, a friend, child
we gathered strength to know the cause,
when time did finally spell our lives to part.
Oh to know the essence of what is this value love,
when pain and sickness do in place of real command.
I wonder sometimes when people glance,
if the resonate nature of being human
lasts beyond a moment,
just past the time it takes to see
whatever it is they need in their own lives
to respond accordingly.
I took a walk in early morning chill,
strolled past frosted windows,
ice sculptures lit with calendars,
made from ice cream tubs
consumed and cleaned and saved
for holiday accent the neighbors might see.
I wander through the world with certainty
brings me to my destination,
like a Simon and Garfunkel melody,
I seem to realize the world around me,
except to suggest any confidence
in anyone ever understanding me.
We all have secrets, paths, ambitions,
though seldom are we told,
to share our deepest plans with the person
just nearby without a care,
instead we keep the door open
to a new voice, perhaps the one that matters.
I have to step gingerly through my day
sometimes, in order to avoid the reckoning,
that part of me that defines my love.
Based on the neighborhood and quiet walks,
the eyes suggest so much otherwise,
that when I think of her I cry.
I always do look for those eyes that help guide me,
the ones that hold my soul wherever I may go.
While in a quiet state of mind,
I was oft to be remind,
of a beautiful woman with spectacular eyes.
She would dance a carousel, inspire a man,
in laughter and smile,
so there he would notice her window of love.
Oh to know the memory of a soul
whereby I could bestow
Certain love that reminds me her sight is true.
Sweet is the fire of passionate sensuality,
the sort of inspired drama of love,
is spoken in eyes my desire does my heart remind.
I always wonder why it is we select a certain pause,
a step away from the carousel
to recognize the peace in another’s eyes.
Caught in the madness,
that self-righteous monster,
reeking of certain guilt, shame, callous
indifference if only to know the
other side before that
market has opened their shutters for business.
We are a riotous lot
who conclusion stirs
long before the beauty of time allows grace
the upper hand.
So often it is late in the game,
when man in incessant pity
does come to terms with love
to know the sweet tears that exist
inside the soul of her gift.
She is that gift as evidenced in her eyes.
I wrote that,
on a day where psyche
ruled upon human nature.
When two lives
might cross paths,
windows to our soul,
perhaps battling demons.
We could glance,
a sort of natural dance
just the two of us
enveloped in a public eye.
Beauty does that to a man,
allows him to let go of focus,
a presumed innocence
ignites that fire within.
A muse in the natural wood
might a sprite if he could
garner an excitement, sensual
in her mystique she plays free.
How far will travel in fantasy
preserve a common trail home.
We live in moments of scrutiny
always a question might answer
a prayer soon asked to receive
yet origins could well deceive.
I would that she feel peace
in knowledge an animate siren.