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In the realm of dreams, we met before,
Not face to face, but soul to soul;
Upon the dance floor, we found our chore,
My hand on your back, making me whole.

Hand in hand, we moved as one,
Gliding to the rhythm of our hearts;
Bodies embraced under the moon and sun,
A dance of love that never departs.

Through the music's whispers and cries,
We waltzed through shadows deep and wide;
In each other's gaze, we found paradise,
In that moment, nowhere left to hide.

Whispers of love in the air so sweet,
Kisses exchanged under starlit sky;
A promise of new beginnings to meet,
As we embraced and let our spirits fly.

Being ourselves was all we needed to do,
For in each other's arms, we found truth;
Loving ourselves as much as we loved two,
A dance of passion set aloof.

With laughter ringing in the night air,
Passion igniting like a burning flame;
Happiness and hope beyond compare,
Kindness and joy our hearts reclaim.

In this Dance of Dreams and romance fair,
We found a love that was truly rare;
Embracing self-love without a care,
Our souls entwined without despair.
Written to my GF, dreams of her, often inspire me, from dream to quill to ink, to paper.
Eia ka pua o ka ʻōlelo,
Ka pua o ka manaʻo,
Ka pua o ka naʻau,
Ka pua o ka aloha.

He kanaka o ka hau,
He kanaka o ka manua,
He kanaka o ka mālamalama,
He kanaka o ka hoʻomanaʻo.

He wahine o ka wela,
He wahine o ka mālie,
He wahine o ka nani,
He wahine o ka aloha.

Ua hui ʻia lākou,
Ma ke alo o ka ʻāina,
Ma ke alo o ka moana,
Ma ke alo o ka lewa.

Ua ʻike lākou i ke aloha,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka mahalo,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka manaʻo maikaʻi,
Ua ʻike lākou i ka hoʻomanaʻo.
I used to live in Hawai'i, many moons ago.
And I tried this, but never felt I got it right.
Maybe another poet who writes in Hawai'ian can help critique or fix this.

Translation
Here is the flower of speech,
The flower of thought,
The flower of the heart,
The flower of love.

He is a man of snow,
He is a man of the cold,
He is a man of light,
He is a man of memory.

She is a woman of warmth,
She is a woman of peace,
She is a woman of beauty,
She is a woman of love.

They were united,
In the presence of the land,
In the presence of the sea,
In the presence of the sky.

They found love,
They found gratitude,
They found kindness,
They found memory.
Stone lion mourns deep,
etched in grief, yet standing proud,
bravery carved wide.
A lion falls, yet duty stays,
Carved in stone, his honor sways.
For king and cause, they stood, they died,
Their silent valor, petrified.
The Lion of Lucerne stands as a testament to the bravery of the Swiss Guards who gave their lives in 1792, embodying the timeless bond between duty and sacrifice. Its mournful yet proud figure immortalizes their heroism, carved in stone for generations to remember.
Love unspoken
Tends to waver
A few warm moments
A few special favors
Even as the good friend
Or the teacher's pet
Acceptance may be
All you get
So when and if
I decide to show it
Unspoken or not
   Now you know it...
Traveler Tim

It just kind of falls out the bottom..
And all at once, at once it died, and all at once love died.
A whisper turned to silence, hearts fractured in the tide.
The spark we thought was endless, flickered out of sight,
Leaving only shadows where once there was light.
Is it the silence that stretches between us,
a chasm carved by unspoken words?
Or the echo of arguments,
reverberating in the empty spaces we inhabit?

Did the rhythm of our lives fall out of sync,
when the new job demanded more than just time?
Or when the baby arrived,
and sleep became a forgotten luxury?

Does the weight of the world,
press down so heavily on your shoulders,
that there's no room left for me?
Or is it my own anxieties,
that build walls between our hearts?

Have we grown in different directions,
like branches reaching for sunlight,
oblivious to the roots entwined beneath the soil?
Or has the fire of intimacy dwindled,
leaving only embers of what once burned bright?

Are there needs I haven't acknowledged,
a yearning for something I can't quite name?
Or is it a weariness of the soul,
a longing for a peace I cannot find?

Could the shadows of depression,
or the whispers of anxiety,
be clouding your perception of our love?
Or is it simply the mundane,
the everyday grind that dulls the senses?

Is this distance a temporary detour,
a bump in the road we can overcome together?
Or a signpost,
pointing towards separate paths?

Is Valentine's Day just a reminder,
of the closeness we once shared?
Or an opportunity,
to rekindle the flame that flickers low?

Is love a constant,
or a fragile bloom,
requiring constant care and attention?
Or is it a choice,
a daily decision to stay,
even when the road gets rough?

And the ultimate question,
hanging heavy in the air tonight,
as the scent of roses mingles with uncertainty:
is this love worth fighting for?
This is a poem, that I never intended on sharing.  My Ex and my Daughter never knew it existed.  I wrote this over two decades ago.  The last Valentine's Day with her, which turned out to be the beginning of the end.  Every fight ended with her threat of "I want a divorce".... So I consulted a lawyer, her friends told her because they found out.  I hadn't filed, just looking at the options.  She filed and went nuclear.  This was penned days before I was served.
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