If ever there was a spirit divine,
One force to rule all else,
He has spoken;
He has crowned his earthly queen.
Her throne carved of stone
And her face carved with courage,
She bade the storm quiet
And all the earth knew silence.
A doe at her feet, and sparrow on her arm,
Her Excellence sweeps away the troubles
With a wave of her delicate pearl hand.
Her eyes are hazel, burning to rival any ruby.
With ears so small she hears but all.
The queen, in comfortable solitude
And Divinity.

More gold on her arms than in any treasury
That this state has ever known.
More kohl in her eyes
Than coal in any of the nation’s mines.
Her crown with gilded leaves,
Outshone by the melted gold on sharpened thorns,
Is one to rival the King of Jews himself.
And surely her bands are enough
To stop a gladiator in his tracks.
But it is her empire
That gives this femme fatale her magnificent pride
She cares not for her possessions
Only for her people,
For the men who ride behind her
Against anyone foolish enough to oppose.
She cares for her castle, a fortress of grandeur
And for the high court leading her world.
She cares not for shining armor
But for their knights, standing atop the walls
She cares not for her crown but for her throne
And not for any prince but her own son.
She cares for the Empire.
Her Empire.

My sister is a beauty,
A photographer, an artist
And the best subject imaginable.
She is the main attraction of my coffee shop,
She’s the mainstay of Main Street.
Unlike every other woman I know,
She only carries her camera and her dignity.
And the gaze of a mirror;
Her plaid shirt, oversized even when it was mine.
A pair of tights earning their title
And sky-high leather boots, a rocker’s staple.
A cheesy beret, our mother’s bracelet.
Blonde locks like there are teardrops on her guitar.
And to complete the classic ensemble, Satan’s prized pearls:
The Cheshire Cat smile.
All tucked behind her expensive-as-hell camera.
And her phone, case with white box and black bow.
Just like my baby sister,
A photograph with a black bow.

Mahogany skin. Must be freshly polished for the way it shines.
Built tall, wide, strong. Must be the perfect tree for climbing.
Keen, sharp eyes denoting the scholastic decathlon trophies at home.
A pink drink in her hands. A black bag on her arm.
Her life is so full. And her face is so calm.

The energy of a thousand suns cannot feed a hungry soul
The strength of s thousand suns cannot heal a hurting soul
Where are you
When I need you?
We’re Close as brothers
But that’s not our fault
We’re Far as strangers
But that’s not our fault
Life did this to us
Life made us
God decided what happened
Even if the guilt haunts me forever.
10-31-17

You are so hard
Your whole body is just firmness and strength
And I love melting into you
You are like the earth
And I’m the water
I soften your edges
As I flow through you
And you are my security
As you hold me.
12-21-17

The very first time I fell in Love with you
We were children standing on the grass
And we didn’t know a thing but I loved you all the same
And neither one of us knew who we were yet
But you loved me like there was no other option
The next time I fell in Love with you
We were a bit older
Standing on the bleachers screaming
Go! Go!  Go!
But I just wanted you to stay
You didn’t know how to make me stay
But you loved me like there was no other option
And every passing year shows me once more
You still keep me on my toes
And I keep falling in Love with you all over again
But nothing feels quite like that first time.
I still feel it like you’ve only just left me tingling on that lawn.
The strawberry lips, the peanut butter they tasted like
The smell of you, the way it hit me that morning like it never had before
The flush in your cheeks when it was over,
And that blessed twinkling spirit in your eyes, a look only for me.
Nothing quite like it, nothing really compares to the first time I fell in Love with you.