You kiss me beneath the violet blue, sunset
orangish and gold like the color of a ring,
set in sapphire and jasmine, the sparkling glint
that the first stars bring from within the twilight,
short haired and vibrant, strong as a fine steed,
the visions of a daring courageous female knight,
giving rise to another exotic and elated feeling,
a memory of feeling warm in the arms of a dream.

The playfulness of your eyes, subtle glances,
of respites and revelry, of moon stones
and magic trances, memories of a time when
I felt like the lips of a short haired Goddess
had touched mine. I can not ask for more
than this special place I want to be,
for this there is no greater yearning,
this being the kiss which sets me free.

You hold me, and in your arms I am alive,
for the first time I feel I must confess,
I had your hand and your heart, envisioned
our love though it's only the greatest test.
I can promise you anything, but first you
must show me the way. I will never be
whole until you kiss me like you did
in my minds eye, your caress by the tree
when the sun fell at the end of that day.

I sat there in thoughtful repose, a fixed stare into
The crystal ball, wishing for a response or a voice,
Truly I've never received anything more than
Silence, as though there even was a magical point.

A ghostly will I have in mind, is that in the end
I can be buried right next to a willow, so that maybe
If the mid-morning rain falls upon my grave,
It will offer only a melody song of wind chimes,
Just a note of tranquil soft rain, a bell ringing
Off in the distance, tolling like the golden days.

Perhaps there will be an answer somehow, perhaps
There will never come an answer, but what's the point?
This train I am on goes where the commoners please,
Is this life just an endless toil, a festering disease?

*Somehow I'll find it, the fantasy dreamt fairytale answer.
No magic. Period. A lifetime of stress, work, and now cancer.

There is a part of me missing,
No one I see can tell, beneath this heart,
A damp empty room is no longer full,
But this was not it from the very start.

There is a part of me missing,
Like a lump in the sore throat of a singer,
Shattering the pitch, breaking of notes,
The voice gets carried away, the sound lingers.

There is a part of me missing,
Unlike any other so it is unique,
It looks like your eyes, dances but it is still,
Holds me close but I'm cold and cannot sleep.

There is a part of me here,
It shines as camp fires glow at night,
Into the darkness it holds me close
And warms me even now and I take flight.