Our summer poems are put away one of yours for every one of mine Shuffled, like the deck of a fortune teller's cards in a yellow binder -Was until we drew flowers and cartoon faces and some (quite imperfect, limping) animals all over the cover
Our fingers weren't skilled for such art not with exuberance pulsating them Yet they worked well upon one another's skin
There we were, then; Caught each other undressed without our words to cover us
They say you can't quite return to the old home again, it won't be the same. But what I think is meant is that you dragged it behind you when you left, years ago. So if you ever return, it's been spread thin behind you. -Like a kite tail that does its own wind dance, regardless of where the kite leads. Sure, it follows a pattern but not always exactly.
I went to dad's. He is dying again on his third false alarm. They keep laying him down and he keeps standing up. ...
My granny had said that I was a particular child. How I spent too much time questioning all of the unreasonable things. That I was tiresome to her, when she'd take me to church, and I wouldn't sit still while listening to the nonsense of some mortal man on a stage.
Because I could talk to God anytime, without that interpreter giving me his own version. I'd tell granny, God doesn't see it that way. She'd just shush me, sometimes handing me a half-stick of gum to occupy my time. ...
No doubt that the earth is round, it rolls on, oblivious to my travel. Without a rocket, I've walked the no ways of this planet, even just to touch the moon. To say it's a real thing, like all these months loving you.
I didn't know how heavy that moon would be. I know it is full of things that people dream about when they're alone.
And the day the moon finally gets weary, and I'm there to pick it up like it's a tired dog, full and sated all the same, ...
Upon my heart, a gentle tapping of two lovebirds uncaged Their wings overlapping
Beckoned forth, my desire's true Have faith in that it beats for you Surrounded in flutters, quickly centered The hum of love so surely entered to my ready heart, to grasp ahold of these truths revealed, to unfold In a song of joy, it's one of faith that within this passion, it's love we make
Rise, my Adelphina I see your love's a phoenix You're etched from rainbows' every ribbon You're the angel born for my religion
I learned early; If you can't read the writing on the wall, it's because you're standing too close to the wall.
Staying back, there's knowledge in distance. Because intimacy brings a different awareness, when my words have my mouth to hamper any given wisdom. So it's best to be quiet, while eyes collide within or without, understanding.
It's easy to speak when I'm cold. I can sit with all who shiver, as my stutter blends with theirs, blaming the current predicament.
Forgive my clumsiness, my stumbling while staring. I claim it happens all the time. It doesn't. I've never tripped so much before, because my armor has never fallen to my feet. Never, has such a combination of a feminine smile and curious eyes unraveled the mental bindings that knotted my hopes. As your hands cater to every nerve of mine, reminding me that yes, I'm still alive even on the outside.
The red veiled curtain tenderizes the middle hours of the night. My apology for waking you ...