When Do You Need Me?

 

When do you need me?

“When I’m doing well.

Standing victorious,

riding the swell.”

 

When do you need me?

“When I’m feeling low,

walking with sadness,

with no place to go.”

 

When do you need me?

“In thunderous rain,

in heat waves and blizzards,

in heartache and pain.”

 

When do you need me?

“When others don’t care.

They stop and they laugh

and they point and they stare.

 

“When do you need me?”

When loneliness calls,

and deafening silence

fills dim, darkened halls.

 

“When do you need me?”

In mornings so bright,

I just can’t stop smiling

and everything’s right.

 

“When do you need me?”

Right here and right now.

I need you to love me

the best you know how.

 

When do you need me?

Each day and each night,

for you are my weakness

with all of my might.

A Trip to Sangre-La

Look,

a tigress.

Her

green eyes

over the rim of the glass

of Sangria

stare through me

as she

contemplates

her next move.

I see her at the edge

of her territory,

confident, fearless,

and ready to explore

new boundaries.

Like a

broken-winged bird

resigned to its fate,

I can only stare

into the depths

of those

verdant,

ocular seas,

and wait

in hope

she strikes.

 

Vanquished

Vanquished now,

I return

to find

all bare of life,

and stilted, stifled purpose

laces the air that has

disguised her

earthy scent,

rank loam in the ruins.

The stones of my home,

my fence,

tumbling

atop each other,

as my men

from their horses,

ungainly unseated,

and skewered

for their lack of skill,

or a champion.

Grasping, bare, black branches soon

reach to pull me into

the shadows

of my mind.

As did she.

Merciful

was the

headsman’s ax,

and swift.

The sky and ground

joined hands

to somersault

in sun-dappled motley

 before my eyes.

And

I returned home,

now

Vanquished.

Beauty Like Rivers

I love

your tranquility,

your clarity,

your smoothness,

your purity,

your brightness,

your changing moods

like shifting currents,

the sparkle of your eyes like

sun diamonds on peaceful water.

I love the dark somber mantle

of a reflected moon in your dark hair,

a midnight lake of cascading curls

that eddy about my ears when you

look down at me,

and the loam smell of your bare skin

against me.

I am

an autumn leaf

in love

with a spring,

drifting away on your

beauty like rivers.

Winter Fire

I remember the

white snow

swirling in the wind

to the bass drum of

thunder far above,

striking the dark slate clouds

that sparked with silver blue

lightning.

 

I remember the regal green pines

staunch and statuesque against

the crepuscular gloom.

 

I remember the firelight

just so,

making a nimbus of

your hair.

 

I remember thinking: This holy being holds my heart.

And my love leaped into

the fire,

and grew warm as

the blush of your cheeks

when I kissed you,

and you took my face

in your hands to

kiss me back,

igniting torrid feelings

that shamed the

winter storm,

and made the fire a

pale and sickly

imitation

of what we share.

You are

my winter fire,

and we will never be

extinguished.

 

Softly Sings the Summer Storm

Softly sings the summer storm.

Silver raindrops from above.

Harmonies in quadriform.

To my heart, the song is love.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Holding hands, we gaze and smile.

On our skin the water’s warm.

Hoping that it rains awhile.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Tenderly I kiss your lips,

as the raindrops swell and form

pools and puddles, drops and drips.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Sunshine’s for another day.

To the path our steps conform,

Love is showing us the way.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Here together, you and I

hear the music now transform

to a soughing summer sigh.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

Darkness looms, so home we tread.

Raindrop shadows multiform,

as we tumble into bed.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

In the darkness, I and you,

now a lover’s dance perform

in our own storm just for two.

 

Softly sings the summer storm.

As we drift into night,

Slumber soon comes all aswarm.

Storm is over…

Love is bright.

 

 

 

Make Me with You

I would say that

Yes,

You complete me,

but not in the way

of our partial, imperfect hearts

joining

to make the

whole

 

I mean that

your love

makes me

who I am,

inspires me

to become all

that I can

to mean something

in this world, by

meaning something

to it,

 

to impact someone

who impacts more than one,

 

to make a difference,

so that nothing is ever

the same

again,

 

to understand

on a deeper level,

 

to love on a higher ground,

and achieve on a different plane,

 

to stand for something

uniquely universal,

 

and to

love you

for the rest of

this life.

 

And so,

Dear Sculptress,

 

Take me in your hands

and

make me

with you.