These lanes are very narrow
you said
walking with Jane

from the parsonage
where she lived
to where the farm road began

Are they?
she replied
I’ve never thought about it

just that the hedges are high
and the birds chock full
in them and their songs

Yes
you said
They are

and in London
there are no hedges
or narrow lanes

and the only birds
are sparrows
and pigeons

and you wanted
to take hold
of her hand

and squeeze gently
the flesh
and sense her pulse

but you didn’t
you put your hands
in your jean pockets

and gazed sideways on
at her and her dark hair
and her profile

and the scent of her
like lavender
as if she’d dived

into a wide field of it
and embraced
the flowers and stalks

What bird song is that?
she asked
No idea

you replied
moving closer to her
the scent getting stronger

the desire to be closer
taking hold but still at bay
It’s a blackbird

she said
You’ll learn them all
the birdsongs

and where and how
they nest and in what months
and you nodded

and saw how
the summery dress
moved and swayed

as she walked
the flowered pattern
like a field moved

by a soft breeze
and her sandaled feet
touching the gravelled lane

and you thinking
how it would be
for them to be held

and kissed by you
if she were beside you
lying in a field

or in one
of those tall woods
and you pursed your lips

and she looked up at the sky
her eyes gathering
the blueness

and whiteness of clouds
and she said
Monet would have captured that so well

and You
you muttered
He would capture you well

each aspect
of your face
and hair and eyes

and she smiled
and looked at you and said
I’d want to be captured by Renoir

have his arthritic fingers
clutching brush
and capture me

and maybe secretly
lust after me
and she blushed

and turned away
and you thought  
Oh yes yes yes

but said nothing
just gazed
and breathed in

her being
her beauty
all there

for you to view
the eyes
the hair

the profile
the way her lips smiled
and sway of walk

and the tall hedges
seemed to explode
with the wild bird’s talk.

I see, beauty in the stars,
even found beauty in old fashioned cars.
Beautiful, is the first day of spring,
and it's beautiful when church choirs sing.

When a baby is born,
when it learns to walk,
when it grows up,
and finally learns how to talk.

There's a lot of things in life,
that are beautiful,
but nothing is more beautiful than her.

And where ever you go,
I want you to always know.
You're beautiful to me,
even if you can't see it.

And I'll always love you,
you don't have the slightest clue.
You mean the world to me,
and you can't even see it.

Those purple circles
Under my eyes
Marks of sleeplessness
I can't disguise
Concealer only covers
The layer of skin
But underneath the makeup
There's still weary eyes within
I haven't slept
Not a wink of rest
Ever since you came
And made this mess.
*Sweet Dreams

I miss the heat
that wasn't humid
and the cold
that was
a cool breeze

Come be my cloud
that keeps me comfortable
like you were before

I'm so uncomfortable

Lying on the cold beach
Pretending to listen to the waves crash and watch the stars shine.
All I heard was your heartbeat,
All I saw was your chest rise and fall with each breath.
Clinging onto your hand
Because every secret second counted,
But never daring to lift my cold lips to yours.

I felt them breathing warmth on my forehead and that had to be enough;
It was love and I clung to it tighter than I clung to your hand.

your beauty is not
hollow

starlit and soft,
kiss me clear as your half Brazilian eyes
clear as laughter that fills me:
i am your cup
press your lips to my edges and
drink.

liquid turns solid turns gas
the properties are the same,
as is love
changing but not changed.

if heaven is not liberation,
heaven is our cheeks brushing just as they should.