It may be official,
Finally and at last,
Your presence is a missile,
Coming in fast.
A dream that never ends,
You’re with me through the day,
I’m walking past friends,
It’s been that way since May.
Thinking of last night,
I’m hitting rewind.
Despite all my might,
You’re always on my mind.
A slow burn, this love.
Kindling, crackling – a flicker is born –
A hurried breath of life – grows the warmth.
Fuel is added, slowly but surely,
As the heat licks the knolls –
Climbing higher – feeding itself.
A frenzy is whipped into existence,
Consuming logs and branches and hearts and hands,
Dancing into the star-spangled heavens.
Powered by supernova bands of radiance,
There is no coolant for the blasts of galaxies,
Booming in the cosmos of eternity.
The rays of fire have more important goals at hand – the opulent transgressions of interstellar heat, forcing it’s way through the cracks of our hearts.
But for now, by the campfire,
With our whisky,
We’re warm enough tonight.
September 12, 2017
Your eyes shimmered in the lamp light when I expressed my love,
Like two blue lakes swelling their banks,
On the cusp of flooding the space of time and night.
Perhaps the moon kept them at bay,
Perhaps the moon will open the gate,
Joining the lamp in illuminating the fight of two hearts
In angst and delight.
You cozied up to me –
You touched my arm –
I promised to never do you harm.
To be continued…
A rush of pink on your face,
When I saw you see me see you lose your place.
I could look at you all the live long day,
Like a twilight sky you’re never the same.
Swirls of color, whirls of light born in May,
To radiate the clouds with sacred flame.
When you laugh I love the twitch of your nose,
When you smile I love the plump of your face.
Your perfume is as sweet as any rose,
To smell it is to lose sense of time and place.
Once upon a time I dreamed of the moon,
Flying solo in a dark, starry sea.
The prophet foretold a Cancer in bloom,
Come June, I realized it was you and me.
Inspired by your eyes, your lips, cheeks and ears,
For you I write my first sonnet in years.
FATHER: Do you know how your mother and I met? We were about the same age as you and Elizabeth. Two kids who would run into each other in the fields or in the marketplace. Sure, it started as coincidence but then as I began to notice all the little things… The way her nose moved when she laughed or how blue her eyes would be in the sunlight… well, then I began to only pretend it was accident to run into her all the time.
Down low and dirty,
Through a sea of stinking mud.
Bot flies and mags, chewing and chiving –
Stinking and contriving through the
Grease-fed snake gas-house.
Moon shuttle ride to the retinal room.