Open those lips,
Take a few sips.
Then to the floor,
My hand in yours.

Tumble and roll,
Stumble and dance,
Always laughing,
Forever that chance.

Next to the bed,
Hush what was said,
Now with the lights
Only clothes fight.

My hand in yours,
We greet the morn,
All sheets and smiles,
And back to our wiles.

Saplings were you and I,
When first I fancied your hair
As it swirled in golden locks
Catching sunlight from the air.
It hid for shame in your tresses,
Your glow was its despair.

But let romance weep,
As it was it was not my heart
That fluttered to your proud display,
And a less noble love
Held my gaze upon that day.

It is not winds of fate
Nor planted seeds
From which our love has grown.
And as years have passed
Trust has wrapped
To cradle bark or bone.
Twisting as two trees,
For fear of falling blown.

Though others might have been,
We are as two trees grown together,
True love’s best end.

A lurid tiger billows,
Across the charcoal sky,
Uncontained by nature,
All’s sanguine beneath it’s stride.

Zigzagging electric segments
Crack like ice in spring.
Spitting biting droplets,
Which spatter, whirl, and sing.

I sat on a dock,
Minding my own,
On a lovely summers day.
When all at once,
A pretty lass,
With a smile cast
And bundled hair of hay,
Chose to stroll
Just a bit too near
And she took my heart away.

Taken aback, was I,
That such a girl
Would ever look my way.
And as she’d passed,
By some slip of God
Her shoulder’d caught my own.

First a tumble
And then a roll,
Over the edge I’ve gone,
Into my boat,
That’s now afloat
Out here on the open sea.

No land is here
But I feel it’s near
And so with one oar I’ll row.
Call me fool or naïve,
What care I of you?
For as I fell over the edge
I swear she’d said
“I love you.”

Pillowy clouds sheet the sidewalk
And sew the hue of rain. In patches
A beautiful blanket - transparent and grey.
All wrapt round, her ruffled bleached flax
All over her lambent crossed legs.

In her hand is an open bag
Of Classic, Potato Chip, Lays.
They taste so sweet,
The sharp salty flakes,
As she breaks them tongue and teeth.

She sits with glossy sunflower lips.
Swaying her hair with a turn and a twist.
Letting the breeze direct cerulean eyes.
Following linear passersby.
And taking a chip from her bag,
Into her mouth,
She feels the time drag.

Through a pane of glass
I am fallen in love
Of porcelain skin and gold-spun hair.

Her downcast eyes
Not once
Meet mine,
For I am coy and cautious.
But through this pane,
By my gaze
Her Heart I’ve caught and courted.

Her mind is sound,
Her temper even,
Her wit will drive you mad,
And she is mine
Behind the glass
To forever hold and have.