I’m no longer
Allowed to dream
As the children did
Before the war
Cursed them with age and care

Firework nights and
Midsummer hammocks
Swaying in a sultry breeze
Have all been spent
On days doled out
To pilgrims who came
Before me

Swift now falls the hammer stroke
Too soon is spent the day;
Dreams burst forth, but wither soon,
That golden were,
But cannot not stay.

I.
As the bow
On violin
Invite my lips
Upon your skin
And our music play
Therein

II.
Kisses sprinkled
Over her
Hourglass form
Would be
An hour
Well spent

III.
Her teeth naively bite my ear
And I tingle as I hear
‘You belong to me, my dear’

IX.
She strips me bare
With but a glance
Her tongue on her lips
Begins to dance
She pins me down
And takes her chance

Perhaps love is,

at least for us mortal folk,

little more (or less)

than a frail seed

In great need

of good tilled soil and

water and sun

and laughter and fun

and wisdom to know

how desperately

broken we all are.



And maybe

perhaps

given due time and care

Love can bloom

become a real thing

become a summer garden thriving

because love

real Love

is far more than passion and desire

More than a meager

give and take

push and pull

'you scratch my back
I scratch yours';



Perhaps love is

something breathed in

with that breath of divine

that first brought us

up out of dust;



Perhaps Love

is so much more than our emotions

much more vast

than all our oceans

Perhaps love is less about

Caste and height;

Perhaps real love

is an unprecedented delight,

A chance to live right.

I witness the sea and the shore

Their recurrent caress and sigh

I wonder if we too might make

Love as enviable as the tides

i am desperately trying
to gather up every word
carved upon my heart
that only my spirit has heard

i am longing to share
this story flooding in me
but how i fear them all
who won't know what i see

Summer slipped out sometime after midnight;

Left the door open wide.

I couldn’t convince her to stay

No matter how I tried.



Autumn arrives in elegance:

Her own offerings of intimacy;

But my skin still tingles from Summer’s bite,

And all the pleasures she gave to me.

The battle lines are drawn,

I know which side I’m on;

But I wonder to see

When my opponent is me.