Sunday mornings are for making love
then drifting back to sleep
lying in each others arms
safe such dreams to keep

a gentle stir
a languid stretch
a loving squeeze and then
Sunday mornings are for making love
again,

again,

again

let's trade places you and I
and see what it like from the other side
would I want you as much if you were me
and if I were you would I yearn to be free

would you tread time like water waiting for me
would I rush through my day so your words I could see
would I check my phone the way that you do
to see if a text or an email came through

and would you sit at a screen and search for the words
that scatter like seeds left out for the birds
and try to pick out the ones that are real
the ones when combined that show how I feel

and would you start over and over again
giving thanks for a keyboard instead of a pen
thinking how trees must be glad that I write on a screen
and not on scrap paper tossed out by the ream

at the end of the day when we came face to face
would I be just like you with your poise and your grace
and would you be sat there trying for cool
while feeling inside like a kid still in school

I'm assuming of course that were different inside
yet both going about working out how to hide
the truth of the feelings we're longing to share
the breadth and the depth of just how much we care

so if we traded places and I became you
could I do the things that I ask you to do
and if you became me could you easily wait
or would you, like me, be afraid of "too late"

Please do not wake me from this sleep
leave me in this dream
for here life is perfect
unlike there where its in between

In my dream I live with you
a simple life beside the lake
we got to bed at sundown
and rise as each day breaks

No telephones, alarm clocks
pagers or fax machines.
Just books and pens and paper
filled with poems and other dreams

A stress free life I get to live
at least while I'm asleep
But that seven am wake up call
is the reality I keep

Hopefully we'll meet again
perhaps in dreams tonight
When in our old four poster bed
you'll kiss and hold me tight

As poets our lives must seem too short,
and filled with so much pain.
We seldom receive recognition in time,
no sunshine, to brighten our rain.

But as poets we live more than most,
the good times and the bad,
and we get to share our adventures with you,
dear reader, both happy and sad.

But what catches your eye, and comforts your soul,
are the tragedies we relay.
Because there is always some comfort in finding,
you're not the first, to come this way.

And so as poets, we continue to write
and attempt to connect with our words,
to the people who know, why we do what we do,
and not those who think its for the birds.

Dont hold on to anger
let it go, let it go

Dont lock your words inside you
let them flow let them flow

Dont smother your creativity
let it grow let it grow

And don't hide your personality
let it show let it show

Sometimes we measure the value of a gift based solely on its value
"Wow those aren't cheap"
"That must have cost him a pretty penny"
"Thats quite the gift"

All of these things are said as if to impart something special about the gift, as if its increased value increases its value.

And yet the exact same thing can be a bad thing
"Oh its too much, really it is"
"But we hardly know each other"
"I wish you hadn't, it's too soon"

But the irony of all this...

Is that the greatest gift costs nothing

The greatest gift is free

And of all the gifts you ever give to someone, this is the one that you hope above all hope that they return. No receipt necessary.

You can't buy it because its not for sale

You can't create it because it has no parts.

No assembly required (or batteries)

You can't wrap it up in nice paper with a big bow on it because it has no substance.

It doesn't come in a small velvet box

It will always match your eyes, your shoes, your purse and whatever outfit you wear.

It will always fit you perfectly

And it will never make your **** look big

It doesn't wear out, break down, go out of style, look old and jaded or ever get faded.

It grows.

Without sun

Without water

Without effort

This is the gift that I have to give, and all you need to do is know it.

When I close my eyes at night
its not darkness that I see
but your smiling eyes and beauty
looking back at me

And when I breathe in deeply
it's not the air that I inhale
but the essence of what is you my love
always fresh and never stale

And when I'm seeking warmth
not for a blanket do I reach
instead I simply close my eyes
and go back with you to our beach

And when my heart is heavy
as it gets once in a while
I wrap myself in memories
of each time you've made me smile

You come to me in so many ways
when I'm happy, when I'm in pain
One you'll come and choose to stay
and never leave again.