Maybe some day we will dance
Holding hands in disbelief
As tears of joy
flow from our eyes
While the field of flowers
will cheer in salute
Maybe our eternity
will come to an end
And our day will come
to begin . . . just maybe

Just maybe I hope
beyond my dreams

you exhaust me
in the morning
where sunlit  window is in
terrible           defense

empathy is      an open house
come on in,     patients
you've got       the front door
as sicknesses   seep to me

the falling of leaves
from the family trees
and the changing of wayward tides

the height above seas
or two hundred degrees
or the place where the devil hides

atmospherics of pressure
set not for good measure
could never offset what I've done

for I swore it my strongest
I held it the longest
that forever I'd love just this one

holding my hands to detain
his smiling eyes entertain
tufty hair that is perfect for rumpling

summer nights out in rain
like symphonic refrain
little thoughts that he stops me from crumpling

just our walk in the park
just might stave off the dark
of the presence of all things unlovely

'cause his embrace is a lark
each soft kiss leaves a mark
and each day this perpetuates doubly

so the spring that I've kept
turns winter to concept
though outside be they blizzards of cold

I love his without, his within
the mystique of his skin
and his soul that with mine will grow old

If I could store away
the beauty of Autumn
like a squirrel collecting nuts,
I could harvest the charity
of nature's grace and beauty.
I could fold away, within
my core, my love for the
easy air and the smell
of sweet forests and burning leaves.
Each icy day of gray Winter
could unravel my bundle
of happiness a little bit
until it was all used up
and Winter was through.
Then Spring could restore me.
It could remind me of warmth
and life and the color of leaves
when they are first birthed
from their mother trees.
Yes, if I could store away
my happiness in Autumn,
the Winter could be easy.

I am not afraid of the darkness
but the shadows that hide within it.
I am not afraid of silence,
but the sounds that eventually break it.