Beloved

Your eyes sparkle in the moonlight
Your lips taste like sweet wine
Poured from a silver goblet
Your hair smells of the purest lavender
And your soft hands caress my cheek, my shoulder,
But this kind of love is a dream
Drizzled before the hearts of romantics
I was once such a romantic who believed
That love should perch daintily on its pedestal
Watching over smitten hearts to protect them
From the arbitrary effects of an ill-cast moon.
But, I, Beloved, have been made cynical
Over years of being told, “It couldn’t work.”
Though the journey pointed to growing love
That had no destination, that only crumbled
Like a house made of sand when prevailing winds
Blew it all away, and then, Beloved, I knew,
There would never be another.

Perfection

Little bugs, beetles, and ants galore,
Crickets far away, fiddling in unison,
The muffled whoosh of a car ten miles away,
And the soft glow of the yard lights
Illuminating the way through the trees.
Dark, yes, quiet, yes, familiar, yes, it’s so.
But where is the comfort that spells home?
Where is the relief from the bonds of city life?
Where is rest from tension and frustration?
Perhaps I have broken the bonds that keep me
Ever-tethered to this place, these memories
That haunt my slumber still with evil things
That happened, breaking the idyllic placidity
Of what could have once been perfection.

From Above

My gram’s been gone thirteen years.
The loss, the hurt, still burns my soul.
I don’t think I can remember
How her laugh revealed her gentle soul.
But she could be harsh sometimes.
I’d wonder if she truly loved me.
There was never a doubt when I was sick
She nursed me at my bedside
Until I was totally well again.
I miss my gram, my friend, my protector,
Yet it was just her time to go.
I see her in my visions living
More life, having more fun than when
She was alive.
She laughs now in a crowd of people;
She strolls through wildflower fields
Holding hands with Grandpa as they watch
The children running after butterflies.
That place is heaven—one mansion just for them.
Grandma wears a white dress and broad-brimmed bonnet.
Grandpa wears a shirt and tie and pants.
They’re happier now than they’ve ever been
And shower us with their love from above.

Be Glad

Silly games keep the day going smoothly
As the mind turns to mush and nothing can enter
Only the practice, practice, practice of words
Beyond words whose little picture seems to evade
The tiniest notion of description and thereby, understanding,
Yet tap, tap, tap, we do, we will to make an impression
Far beyond reason and with no more intention
Than one who snores in his sleep.
Yet the caper goes on, in and out like threads
Making a superior tapestry right now.
One that may become threadbare with age
With enough Light shone on it all
And greater genius at his disposal
But if it is enough to turn the tide toward security and hope,
For this I shall be glad.

Summer Celebration

Hot, humid holiday in July
Bit of a breeze blowing the treetops
Inviting blue sky brings smiles
As the water ripples and twinkles
As far as the eye can see.
Some opt for parades and festivals
Others for craft fairs and fireworks
Crowds upon crowds busily here and there
Murmuring amongst themselves how lovely
It all is, as music plays among the din
Music of ages past, modern music,
Small names, big names, foreign names
And all to create the perfect Celebration!

Could Be

As if you didn’t know
That two and two are four
In the mystery of the wind
You betrayed me like a friend
Did you think I wouldn’t see
That you made a fool of me
And destroyed my life, my soul
In the instant you declared
That we were once enemies
I don’t believe that it could be
We were mirrors of the whole
Like two sides of the same whole
What did you expect of me
Were you cold as you could be
And why did you do this to me
You were cold as you could be.

Our Way

Roses, though we don’t think of them that way,
Spiral up the walls of the castle made by love,
And growing amongst the brick and mortar
Like a reminder that love i a part of our nature
Serenely sitting within us as the sun rises,
Finding its full expression in the light of day,
Becoming our full secret in the dark of night,
And leaving a spectacular legacy as the sun sets.
Immense, fragrant flowers of crimson red
Herald the greater message as our blood boils
Filled with passion for that which we long.
Our desire comes in snippets of petals
As they drift on the breeze, slowly, one at a time,
Their scent wafting before us, leading us,
Helping us to find our way.