America the Beautiful is broken
into variations, reassembled
at fifteen, while your friends played ball, tumbled
after grounders.  Met her, vows were spoken,
children came, a job to feed and shelter.
Insurance, managed risk made up your days
while music filled your nights and underlaid
a counterpoint of art and home.  She felt your
dualistic muse; the age-old tale
of starving artist held no taste for you.
Forty years of working every breath
until the night your muse's heart would fail.
You lived for years with your worst fear come true,
for you had starved your artist to his death.

They say everything has an end
They say nothing lasts forever
Yet my heart says there is no end
When it is true,  love will last forever

They say everything comes then will fade
They say nothing will last eternally
Yet my heart whispers how we're made
I am for you and you are for me

I try so hard, to remember her smile
the sound of her laugh,
the smell of her hair...

Can you see her?
Can you see her standing there?

Her eyes they stare, so cold and dark
No life is there, no light no spark

Can you remember?
Can you hear her cries?
Can you feel her touch?

Remembering so painful,
but forgetting is torture.

I want, I need, I crave, I beg;
but in the end, I fear the pain.

Her ghost still lingers, lost and alone.
She lies within my soul, she hides in my heart
She cannot die, but she cannot live
I need her still, forever I will
If you see her, please tell her
I need her still, I always will.

I need to trust in love and not make a fuss
when a day or week passes without reassurance
  that what was said is still believed
when I have no reason to disbelieve
I just love too deep and when you don't exercise
you're weak and I've repressed my heart for
so long it yearns hard when it's unguarded
Ultimately, the fence falls because I've been rocking
on it too long and then I'm uncertain where to stand
I want to lean on you but worry you've had enough
of being somebody's crutch
I just want what we all desire;
an unhidden connection with someone
who loves me as much as or more than I do them
It is said patience is a virtue
but who cares about high morals anymore
when commitaphobes run abound
because everyone's at least once given their hearts
to someone on the opposite spectrum
to leave them in pieces by misdirection
But like a 10,000 piece puzzle, with time
and patience, it can be put together again
If all hearts are broken or closed off completely,
how will I ever find one to reciprocate my love so freely?

A blue black cloud, all over me is written JOY
in the script of vapor, dense, moist and meaningful,
I am light, like a feather, the breeze is in love with me for that,
I love his gentle persuasion to waft, move about, explore..
and then--ravaged by wind my love changes direction.

I love freedom more than anything, but forgot limits, hover
now, I am no more attached to the green hills, they are jealous,
far above them am I, untouched by their vainglorious pride,
I am not hard-hearted, parched fields send shivers of lightning
break me in to thousand  smaller pieces, scatter around.

My love for this earth is kindled by the sights unfurling below
all the egrets, cormorants, storks and herons of great magnificence,
those kind hearted friends that fly with me often are in pain
like the farmers, there isn't enough water for anything.

A cloud is a thought, inspired by the love for mother earth
by the ocean I am gifted to the breeze, to tour around,
on many lands fell my shade, found life in all varieties,
now is the time to be kind at heart, melt, fall in torrents.

Sitting on a bench just off the
Liberty Trail in Boston, waiting as
the rest of my family made a restroom stop.
An old man with a thick, greyish
beard and heavy eyelids
took a seat next to me.
His ***** white hair caught
a cotton seed sailing through the air.

The bag of tobacco in his hand
was wide open, and he
pulled a roll of Zig-Zags
out of his pocket—he tore
the paper about six inches long
and proceeded to
roll a cigarette. His fingers,
bent and forlorn,
worked tediously as a
diamond cutter’s.

He lit the cigarette, let out a ring of smoke,
and introduced himself as
Lenny. I told him my name
and we talked for a few minutes.
"What brings you to Boston
young fella?" he said
in his aged Boston accent.
"Family vacation--personally, I'm
interested in all the history of the town."

By now his cigarette is
half-burnt, and my family is
ready to continue on the trail.
Lenny turned to me with
a low look in his eyes,
but he cracked a smile.
He had a couple teeth missing

Before I got up he said to me,
“When I want to sit and think,
a cigarette isn’t long enough
to burn through my thoughts,
but a conversation with a
stranger every day
is what keeps my mind
from running away in smoke.”

I'm not gonna miss you,
you are always
in my mind,

when I fall asleep
at night,
I will just remember
we lay under
the same stars.

I will take a piece
of your beating heart,
and make it mine,

so when we are apart,
I will not be alone;
you may be far
but never gone.

I'm not gonna miss you,
but your kisses and hugs,
your smiles that struck
like lighting
in my eyes,

I'm not gonna miss you,
but the way
you make my days
complete,
those feelings
that always bring me
to my knees.