Its actually the way she does,
when he falters,
she manages to find the right words,
he is the constant skeptic,
always believing that this might be the case,
and then the sun rises again,
she is radiant in her peace,
he humbled by the virtue she displays,
she has to wonder if that is enough,
or will he walk toward her enchantment again,
with little regard for anything else around him,
only a certain energy,
he does desire her words, eyes, voice,
if everything might be so simple,
then his constant musings,
could be quelled
long enough for his muse to be able to freely,
It is when I can imagine her eyes,
searching the paper, the right keystrokes,
for we are beyond the parchment,
the monitor speaks to her,
while the journey continues,
to find her soul in saying hello.
I do see tears, they are those I wish to touch,
with lips that will assure her
always the reflection is my love.
My fingertip might catch a runaway,
gather between finger and thumb
and bring this moisture to my own lips
to be with you in every aspect of my mind.
It is when the sunlight brings me to my place
this fashion of life I choose,
when waking to the moments,
as the clarity of her elegance swoons my mind.
It is then I know, her words, her beauty, her sweet
While my world begins, I am traveling with you.
While the mind will take excursion,
in wonder in respect to conversion
would the opportunity toward freedom
be allowed inside this patterned fiefdom.
While respect of inspiration seek calm,
the trail run cold still awaits in palm
some possibility, some idyllic frame
of mind that draw delight in its game.
In whilst the turmoil of lackluster time
feels in the onset just that certain grime,
must we always ponder the profound,
even when no love for word can be found.
Perhaps it is simply the fortune of beauty
gives peace to a sedentary turns frivolity.
I, when alone study
notions of her fantasy
we seldom waiver
perhaps a profile
coffee in a pencil skirt
sit nearby my eyes
when while wondering
we would wander wanton wild
whisper wise welcome
stand nearby for now
I will wait to have you know
we could dance tonight
will you lean with me
allow eyes skin naked grace
could we please go on
tease my eyes desire
my obsession is your persona
please let me please, you
I have this life I share with
some have actually become
I’d like to think all of them together
hearts lead them are involved
in the beauty of teaching me
I do love you that is true,
in every essence of who you are,
when I close my eyes and imagine just beauty,
as a graceful step, the very nature of true
while in my fantasy,
your eyes do pierce my mind freeing me of such
earthly burdens as are vanity.
I want you to stay in my dreams,
don’t go far, because if in a moment I stray,
I have lost you again,
When while lonely,
what haven’t I known
a shuddering response to time
let me walk away
I wish to feel the moment,
each pulse of my world
envelop my pain.
I will shudder through
while all around me a blank slate
awaits a return,
a resilient body that for a time,
took a walk inside,
an internal mecca of soul-searching
Be surprised when the one you know,
might anticipate a slow unravel
suddenly finds dignity
in a place where only shadows follow.
My blue night is the wind and breeze
she follows my lead with peace.
I want to leave this place, yet the music always makes me return,
it crescendos upon my heart with a fever pitch of purpose,
I want to simply say goodbye to any reason and then yet another chord
wraps itself slow around my mind, and I am nearly strangled by love,
in a repeat,
I’m in that place again where the music always plays,
a journey through time, the essence of why we begin,
where it is that once upon a time,
we decided this would be of some reasoning,
a respite toward that necessary solace in our lives.
So instead of walking away, we just joined the fight.
Sometime in our lives we began to have an inherent reaction
to love’s purpose and we used music to help define the moment,
for when those tears wore upon our soul their greatest impact,
it was then we felt something, there was indeed a … something,
a reason to go on, to allow our fingertips to keep finding words,
to help us put together all the pieces of our excuses for any number