A line thin curved
in pale green sky
as the edge of a coin
or an elegant breast
the hundred degree moon
wafted silently above
glowing streets
of a city asleep.

In places the line
is invisible that
divides this country
from that.

A broad
empty
space is there
and many die
crossing.

Transluscent
perriwinkle
with stripes of white
and lilac were
the curtains in
her bedroom.

An easy breeze
would move them
gracefully
billowing to fall
silent against
a blue painted sill.

Evenings
were ours but not
to hurry
or to miss
the pleasance of
her warm skin smooth
against my own.

He had loved the moon

beautiful and pale
shining a white
enchantment down
to light a dark place
a warm inviting glow
that drew him
tugging at the veil
to better see
her lovely face.

Controlling tides
and turning weary
hearts to love
the moon appears
so very close but she
is distant
bright and lovely
impossible
to touch.

Himself

Gazing across
the water
at something grey
and undefined
he scribbled words
into a book.

Words were
the thing he could
control
when the rest of life
seemed immersed
in confusion.

This book.
His words.
Himself.

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.

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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.