Being a person
is becoming a bit
too complicated
and a bit
too difficult

Gentle lady, do not sing
Sad songs about the end of love;
Lay aside sadness and sing
How love that passes is enough.

Sing about the long deep sleep
Of lovers that are dead, and how
In the grave all love shall sleep:
Love is aweary now.

I met you tonight.
You smelled nice
and I sat next to
you for two hours.
Sure, there was a
fifteen minute break.
But so what? Your
bangs hung straight
across your forehead
and you skirt lay
loosely around your
thighs. Your sweater
clung to you body
and you clung to my
mind. I know your
name and I know
your face but I know
not you.

It was your first time going to a show and you told me you felt like a white crayon.
It was my thirteenth show and I told you white crayons looked very nice on any color paper but white. So why limit yourself?

You had your legs
crossed and your
foot kept touching
my calf and instead
of recoiling I let it
happen. I talked to
you and when I took
my coat off it flailed
in your face and I
said "I'm sorry, sorry."
And you curled your
mouth into a cute
smile and told me it
was really okay, and
then the show was very
good and how many
have I been to. It's funny
how you're cute and I'm
me and you laughed
when I said stupid
things and I let our
legs touch and I even
held the door open for
you and said "Goodnight,
Lady. See you next Monday."
And you said "Goodnight,
Nolan. If fate wills it,
so it shall be." And we
laughed and I begged fate
to will it.

Wind whispers softly to the waves in June.
When Sun sinks low in the advancing night
And crickets in their siren song unite
A gentle tide begins to sweep the dune.
In the darkness, my love, you are the Moon.
When birds land home to nest, no more in flight,
The unforgiving shadow steals the light
And once again you’re gone too soon.

But you shall be there in the morning’s hush
To bear witness to the moment light has won.
The tide will crash in all its foamy rush;
Stones concede to softer sands under its push.
Oh! sweet and silent night your course has run.
When Moon grows pale, my love, you are the Sun.