The Treasure of Us

I found it quite by accident,

long after

you were gone.

A sunbeam

through the dirty window

was resting on it,

a celestial beacon

like

a navigator’s star,

or a savior’s herald.

Emotions stirred,

slow and sluggish,

a snail waking from sleep.

I hesitated, standing in

the acrid, arid attic dust,

my heart warring

with my mind,

Do I open

the treasure of us?

Long buried memories

of times past,

of youth and strength,

of love and passion,

of you smiling,

of us, in love.

I could open

the creaky wooden lid,

softened, like me,

by age.

I could grasp

the rich fabric to my cheek,

and twirl the bright coins in my fingers,

admiring their sparkle and flash

in the fading light.

I could let slip

through my fingers

the bloody cloth and the fool’s gold.

But  it’s all of a piece, isn’t it?

And I would have

peace now.

I wiped my tears,

and left

the treasure of us

unopened.

I will hold it

in my heart,

in these last days.

For that is enough,

and somehow

more than riches.

Flowers for Wishes

Flowers for wishes

Flowers for dreams

Flowers for nothing

is all that it seems.

Flowers are falling

from heaven above.

Flowers are given

when one is in love.

Flowers for loneliness

Flowers for tears

Flowers for happiness

driving out fears.

 

Flowers are falling

in fields green and gold.

Flowers for young children

soon growing old.

Flowers for wishes

from out of the blue,

wishing you’d love me,

if wishes come true.

A Changing Season Marking Time

A changing season

marking time,

Another silly ‘season’-rhyme,

Another sun-splashed

Autumn day,

A leaf-strewn path

to run and play,

Another golden light

to see

Another day

with you and me.

 

I love to spend

the seasons here

though slowly

they leak life and youth,

But you are constant

as the seasons

and I hold to it as truth:

That will never change.

 

 

 

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.