Close Your Eyes and See

Close your eyes and see,

my darling,

close your eyes and see

the many varied places

you could be alone with me.

Upon a planet far away

or deep beneath the sea,

we’d laugh and play

and love each other.

We alone with We.

Close your eyes and dream,

my darling,

close your eyes and dream,

let your imagination flow

in life’s ungentle stream.

The soldiers and the butterflies

are standing toe to wing,

the fairies and the demons

wait for you to have them sing.

Close your eyes and fly,

my darling,

close your eyes and fly.

The heroes and the heroines

are stiffly standing by.

They wait on the adventures

that are deep inside your mind,

so turn the key that sets them free

and cut the ropes that bind.

Close your eyes and sail,

my darling,

close your eyes and sail,

and feel the ocean spray your hand

that grips the galleon rail.

The pirates and the sailors

love the winds that froth the wave,

with stars to guide you safely home,

with fearless crew so brave.

Open up your eyes,

my darling,

open them and look.

And hunt the treasures of your heart.

They’re never very far apart.

The written word’s a sacred art

in pages of a book.

 

There Were Days

There were days

of new love, good friends,

accomplishments,

awards and rewards,

accolades and victories.

There were days of

laughter and warm fires,

music and feasting,

soft touches and tender kisses.

Like waves that crash

and return to the sea,

leaving the loamy, sizzling foam

of happy times behind,

I watch them go with growing gratitude,

and graying hair.

My full heart cries and whispers thanks,

having known those splendid days.

Love is Not Wasted

I stand here in this wet snow,

in front of the steamy warm coffee shop

where I first saw you smile at me,

blush and turn away when

I returned it.

I watch you walk away now,

your red umbrella

bright and festive

amid the gray and weeping clouds

as you leave me.

And I have to hold on

and believe that unlike

the last unfinished cups

we had together,

Love is not wasted.

Poetry’s Lament

Her sad eyes
looked into my own,
and I looked away,
unable to bear the weight
of her gaze.

How did you not know?
she asked.
“I never set out to do it,
not deliberately.”

And yet, it is a part of you now.
“So it would seem.”
Will you nurture it?
“I’ve little choice.
I’ve written way too many now
to turn back.
I don’t think they’ll let me anyway.”

That seemed to bring her comfort,
and she smiled
as I wiped
her tears away.

I would have hated to leave you.
“I would’ve hated to see you go,
but peace now, Poetry.
I’m not leaving, so
come take my hand
and open your gift.”

My Moody Muse

She hides when I look for her,

sometimes playfully,

or shyness,

and sometimes, out of fear.

 

Looking right at me,

she’ll smile

all tease and seduction,

and ignore my beckoning.

 

Sometimes she cries,

and steps out of my embrace,

and nothing I can say or do

will console her.

 

There have been times, too,

when blood was spilled when

we’ve made war, then love,

and sit together writing in the

quiet places of our hearts.

 

Sometimes apart,

but always

united.

Honey on Her Lips

And when she turned to look at me,

the light hit them

just so,

just so,

so soft light

made soft petals

of her soft lips,

and the drop of honey

gleamed like a dark jewel

born from dark fire.

A scent of flowers on her sweet breath,

a sweet drop of an amber diamond

on the tip of her tongue.

I moved forward to taste it, take it,

plunder the sweetness within

from her.

She turned and ran,

laughing as I gave chase

for the rest of my life.

Ever in past longing,

ever in present, seeking need,

ever gloriously lost in far away,

right here and now,

with the honey

on her lips.

Quilted

Patches of good times,

pieces of bad,

quilted and stitched

in the life that we had.

Remnants of memories

sepia tones,

yellowing love ages

into our bones.

Did I do this thing

or did you say that?

And does it matter now

love has gone flat?

You sit in your chair,

and I’ll sit in mine,

alone and together,

and lost in the wine.

Arguments, fighting

familiar as dust.

Then after midnight

it’s make love or bust.

Time to be quiet,

even our sighs.

As silence settles

we watch the moon rise.

Tomorrow then, we will

remember this day,

more fragments of memories

to put away.

As life gets more peaceful

the older you grow.

the sun lights your quilt up

with just the right glow.