I watch the moon
in a distant sky.
It’s an annual trek
in my not knowing why.
There’s a fire that burns
now I can’t tell you why
stoking it with yearns
I still can’t tell you why.
Because I love you
only makes you blue.
I wonder if you ever cry
the way you did with me.
I’d ask you why
wishing I had left you be.
~
© Scott F. Savage 6/2022
I wish I knew the definition of Grace,
years ago, my sister defined passion,
it became less sexual
much more so the beauty of people
a regard for desire
an enhancement of what a person
might bring to our lives.
I haven’t a thought it be so far from Grace
we cannot appreciate its value
in the departure of passion,
and some aim toward
understanding,
that ability to know
such elegance in a woman, a man,
lover, friend, someone whose
eyes do tell a story we wish to continue to
hear, see, dream, anticipate
hold strong in that we come to believe.
I once held Grace to be the bond
brought me together with certain truth
once alive in my heart,
a directive toward my soul.
We do want to match up our lives in time,
imagine someone spectacular sublime.
© Scott F. Savage 5/2020
.
I’m not exactly whining
possibly regretful,
somehow perhaps timing
a ruthless waterfall
emotions pouring out my heart,
the soul responds
some spiritual reckoning
found in a pool
of nature’s mystique,
forever we might wonder
how aspects of our lives
will live a continuum
no matter that desire
to step away
with soft heart
yet all is love
all is forever.
we cannot forgive one another
when both
feel the pain
of a necessary distance,
though
we always wonder
beyond our fantasy
we do exist
each other
each love.
© Scott F Savage 4/2020
Well wonder
what might be
swirling winds nearby
haunting rafters
in certain communication.
Love does not
will not
while routines find purpose
there in the silence
runs the conscience
that place private
where quiet smiles
mean less the obvious
stead discretionary
yearn.
A hope he carries across the city
might be a flash
a moment
when she
when an owl
simplicity
gave melody in the night.
©️ Scott F Savage 3/2020
Watching headlights,
chilly nights,
a gasp and artwork,
glass drawing figures
upon a picture window,
later reserved for mom
with windex and a paper towel,
lazy fingerprints in twilight
oh the sordid dreams of a ten year old,
a silent night before the winters
of my yearn.
Hours would be spent,
watching a moon rise,
the glow of street lamps nearby,
cars driving along the avenue,
waiting for one,
hopeful,
she might return sooner
than perhaps she might intend.
Like every evening since my childhood,
there’s always a reflection
in the eyes of a young boy,
still waiting,
his wondering, wandering mind,
wishful that that holiday
atmosphere
might bring a sweet serenade
her presence
in his dream
car lights hold a mystery.
My days are shorter,
the clocks will wind backward
the night sky loom deep into the onset of winter
lonelier evening,
vacant stares,
a constant yearn to know, what
we might remember is only now left
in a safe vacuum of
once before,
when everything that mattered in the moment,
has suddenly turned upside down,
pieces spilling into the fabric of our own
well-being,
none so powerful as the notion
of believing,
once being so swept into the arctic winds of defeat,
it would take forever to step outside of
the misery of becoming
just that lone wanderer
we always agreed,
would ne’er
return
Something urbane
a fiction
a television rerun
a sad moment
and I feel tears,
I know where they are
waiting to be shed
needing a reason
in the quiet of my cry
I miss her
snd I want to tell her why.
instead a good sob
lets a man recognize
there is a reason
the stars return at night
a purpose to a glorious sunrise
a special cooling of summer
all natural wonders
let me hide my tears
for the facade
allows my aching heart
will own our love
like a sunset
let life
rest another day.
A good cry
and I know
I love you!
© Scott F Savage 2019
quiet mist facades
an insomniac parades
her mystique in shades
I cannot guess,
though the thought occurs,
I’d like to know,
yet I am left inside my mind,
a wanton desire,
inside this world a yearn
to find a seer
might bring her spirit near.
I walked around tonight
inside a world of windows
wondering about
the people, each other’s lives
the purpose inside
their own regard.
I couldn’t answer
any questions anymore.
I walked outside and felt the rain
same as everywhere,
the tears of summer.
I wondered
about romantics in the breeze
might they feel and yearn
the same, reminders
of what is love in our world.
I walked inside again sad face
there wasn’t magic in my pace.
Yesterday
I noticed two lives
together
eyes inside each other’s soul
lips yearn
I could not help
but wonder
a true meaning of love
 | a quiet man on Haiku Love |
 | Yernasia Quorelios on Haiku Love |
| a quiet man on I Took A Walk |
 | Priti on I Took A Walk |
| Priti on I Took A Walk |
Turning trauma into triumph since 1981.
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