Bridled

Tapping of keys
and familiar glow
accompany
coffee
and the sounds
of daily routine
in this little place.

My Darling
I love you more
than ever I thought
was possible
and there is no way
to tell you.
The softness of
your hair
your lips
the roundness
of your breasts
and thighs
are things that I
will never know
but my hands
seem to remember.

I love you.
How much I  love you.
Dont ever forget.

A sip of hot dark
liquid as
he leans back a bit
to read again.
And again.

Hand to the mouse.

Edit
Select All
Delete

There is
always
a thing
undone.

Almost the Green Aura

was a distraction
with its pale shimmer
and pulse.

Bright as rain
in morning sunlight..

Mornings with you

please my heart as
a silken warm
zephyr pleases
the skin.

Colors
and fragrances
beautiful as lilies
peonies
chrysanthemums
content my mind
soothe
my longing heart.

Do you know the color
she said
of lavender sheets
in the last rays of
an August sun?

How would you paint
that lovely hue
as it melted to the
muted gray
of twilight?

She gazed across
the lamplit table
waiting as though
I might answer.

There was a day
when I could not
bear the weight.

I came into her room.

Quietly alone
she sat elegant on
a brocade couch.

It was her place.

Weeping I buried
my face in her skirt.

Sharing a space
they also
shared company.

A quiet union
with individuality
but not
indifference.

Independence
without
isolation.

Pale City Lights

illumined the path
we walked
arms about waists
thoughts about kisses
listening
as evening
moved quietly
knowingly.

A Shelter

Round crescent of a moon
provides small light
for the hope of discovery.

Darker
beneath a flowering tree
is something of
a shelter.

Dappled light of morning
falls silent warm
on sleeping eyelids.

I Love You

The words hung
voiceless and pale in
fresh morning air.

A crow's call through
the opened window.
My note already lay
unfinished and raw
and she
was there
behind the words.

It was a long time
before I let them in.

When we spoke last it
was as a dream
in which one converses
long and cheerful
with someone who has died.
Shadowed faces
smile and laugh exchanging
pleasantries as if nothing
has changed
yet we know it is
an illusion brought up
from memories
and wishful thinking.

Why should it be so?
We are not dead.

Fecund blue travels
westward drawing darkness.

Lonely chill of the soul
reaches me unwanted.