The Little Things

The disk on the radio

not the melody

yet what might be

waiting inside.


Remember random choice

when blues today

war zone tomorrow

yet always it happens

we want to hear


from her

about her

because her

designed by



not today though

say it in your head

three times

then watch your hand


reach for the dial

you know she is waiting …


… only love is …


Quiet Reflections


A few days went by, a coupe of sunsets

mostly the rains, he’d been used to their

discretion, every day a new pattern

would remind him again how far apart …


Together time measured only  a faint

recall when her lips would touch his own.

A cool winter night, warmth, each other

near to knowing this celebration of love.


In the quiet of an early night sky, Chopin

wrote is masterwork, while we might wander

our own mind wanting answers long before even

a legitimate question might lay to reset his wish.


He did now wish only her response that she would hear

his cry in the solemn night where he did now wander alone.

~ finding my way l a personal journey ~