When I slumber I dream in color of a meadow by a brook
a sweet bird on a branch of a tree so tall it kisses the sun
in a sky of vivid blues, red, yellow and a hint of orange
listening to the birds sing about the flowers in bloom
attracting butterfly and nectar seeking humming birds
who fly near the place where I prepared a picnic for two.

Drift off to sleep my love
meet me in our meadow of dreams
A blanket spread
classic colors of checker board squares
with a picnic basket of wicker
two wine glasses for the laughter
of sparkling bubbles, we share.

Slowly falling
you glide on angels wings
in the distant horizon
next to the mountain of our desires
walking now
ever closer
stopping to sniff the aroma
of flowers grown by our mother nature
deeply in love with life
stepping on the moss of a fields shadow
your memory imprints a visit.

Our hands reach
and touch, fingers intertwined
feeling the warmth of together
as our eyes met with a look of content
our bodies drawing closer
we feel the purpose of meeting
from across the distant miles
a connection.

A summer rain softly falling
we dance
spinning
hands holding
until we fall together on the checkered blanket
laying together we make pictures from clouds
and speak of love everlasting
peanut-butter and jelly
a favorite.

Making plans for the coming days
when the Pacific ocean turns into a field
of green clover
and on the day
we picnic
and make love under the stars
in the meadow where we first met...
Looking into the mirror... as the story unfolds...

I can hear the nurses over the din
That is my blood in my ears,
Coursing through these veins as if on fire.

I can hear them say "He's struck dumb,
Poor man, gave the boys all he had,
All that's left, of course, is a wordless bag of bones,
And broken heart".

I can hear them frivolously care for the others I cannot see,
Whose names, are to me, little anchors that weigh me
To reality, like a nail in the ground holds a kite down
To keep it from breaking free.

I am silent, struck dumb

Why can't the thoughts that swirl in my mind like mist
Materialize into words and sentences so that a living eye can read them,
So that a living ear can hear them, as they flow from my mouth
In little indeterminate streams,
That can remind me that the world exists beyond what I have seen.

There is a trip one can take to a place called Apologetic.

At this destination regret is the norm,
Lamentations are fashionable,
and apologies in high demand.
In this place contemplation is all the rage,
Reflective thought is du jour,
and repentance is propagated.

I can attest, testify, or bear witness if you will,
That such a place exists!
I have been there countless of times!
I can certainly certify!

Or perhaps...
You have been there yourself already?
In which case you can corroborate what I say is true!

light
from the lit windows
   of the hurrying train
streams out
and instantly disappears
   into the darkening landscape
   through which I travel

I do now know
   where it goes
   what scene it may
   happen to illuminate

sometimes
when we stop at a station
   pass a town
   or a row of cars
   waiting at the crossing
we are receivers
   of the light of others

so we speed through the world
receiving some
and sending flickers of light
   into space
to unknown destinations

           * *

There is a tension that exists,
Here between you and I.
Its like a string pulled tight,
Ready to be snap at any moment.
It's forever there,
Taunting both of us.
We try to ignore it,
And pretend that it doesn't exist.
But it's there,
Every time you look at me,
When your eyes lock on mine.
Your words have a double meaning,
As do Mine.
Desperately we try to ignore the tension,
But its only a matter of time.