they wandered down the path alone
and hand in hand she longed to own
a place inside his cautious heart
but never told him from the start

the pieces of that puzzle fit
but never did they speak of it
and waiting on the words to say
in time her hair was feathered gray.

but who'd have known and who'd have guessed
they had their time together
they spent their days and both were blessed
in clear and stormy weather

And all this time you'd think she'd know
since everything he did, did show
and almost sure, she'd never ask
but left him to that silly task

the years flew by and they grew old
and still no word of love was told
and in the end he held her hand
and knew somehow she'd understand

they spent their days and both were blessed
in clear and stormy weather
with three small words, she breathed her last
and left him there, together

Nothing's ever what it seems,
I wait around 'cause in my dreams,
you're something more than what I am
not Spam 'n eggs, green eggs or ham

but what I've dreamed in slumber's car
is not beyond the farthest star
but just above the highest cloud
where frozen skies can't scream out loud

or laugh or cry or live or die
or touch the apple of His eye
or grasp a thought, and catch a smile
or take a nap and rest a while

or lie outside in fresh cut grass
the summer sun, the day to pass
and when I'm rested, let it go
autumn comes and then the snow

life is short, and I am smitten
but hardly had the fruit been bitten
anger cuts the evening short
hopes and dreams meet TV sport

angry tones, a hot debate
and deep-set hurt will always wait
words are spoken, much regret
at least you're free now from the net

darkness comes but evening's fires
thaw the chill, and warm desires
hope for love, a life so sweet
calms the rage and stirs the heat

not so fast, the damage done
the fear rekindled in His son
faith moves mountains, this one still
cannot be moved beyond his will

all I wanted, something good
something blessed, a God who could
give me more than fleeting hope
far beyond my simple scope

and looking at that brightest star
reminded what a fool I ARE
I wish I may and wish I might
not have the thing I had tonight

to leave it to the Greatest One
is often hard and not much fun
less difficult, yet worse to take
is love's enormous bellyache

reminded there's a better plan
a place within His loving hand
and taken there one autumn day
the dream's allure just fell away

what I had thought 'true love' would be
far less than what He has for me
with oneness as it's greatest goal,
forgives the hurts and heals the soul

His final passage
all it took
to get this girl
to read the book
he'd asked her twice
before he died
she said she'd started it
but lied

His point was made
she'd do her best
fulfill this day
his last request
for now, what's sure
she's hanging on
to every word
because he's gone

and once aboard
she's hauled to sea
no pleasure cruise
but misery
she stands her watch
from noon till nine
he drinks his scotch
she sips her wine

He holds the course
and surely keeps
the surging seas
from where she sleeps
and once her grieving
eases some
she's finds his voice
a comfort from

the memories
she reads his words
through tear filled eyes
her ears have heard
and now she enters
into his
her mind alive
with images

of life beyond
this mortal soul
of turquoise seas
and sandy shoal
she mulls each chapter
of this book
and smells the sea
and baits the hook

and climbs the mast
up to top
unties the sails
and let's them drop
and pulled into uncertainty
the ship sails through
calamity
but never does
she doubt the man
who said he could
she knows he can

and reading on
she comes to see
the trip was really
meant to be
for all her days
she's been alone
sometimes by choice
though seeds were sown

but landing here
on troubled water
no one found
his only daughter
and left to find
her own way home
to settle down
or wait and roam

she's simply learned
to stay afloat
while others love
and others dote
on children born
to entertain
she'd prayed for babies
but got rain

the wind kicks up
her heart still bleeding
blames herself
for never heeding
youthful dreams
for fear of failing
SUDDENLY
she's out here sailing!

now rising from
the galley door
the smell of fresh
baked bread and more-
sea-salt blends
with airborne yeast
and draws her down
to taste the feast

she swings the rope
from deck to ladder
there's her Dad
a little fatter
the captain calls
all hands on deck
a storm is brewing
still they check

to see what's cooking
time to eat
for work requires
mortal meat
and in the middle
of the story
here's her father's
pride and glory

pictures taped
upon the wall
his two best girls
and that's not all
a golden key
on nail in teak
she'll watch him knead
while floorboards creak

she stands beside
and learns his ways
for he was gone
most of her days
out to sea to make a living
and mama said
he's always giving

now she listens as he praying
for wife and child
what's this he's saying?
"Bless them both
while I'm away,
lead them safely
through the day"

while fishermen
have dropped their nets
he speaks of losses
and regrets
that one small daughter
missed her dad
he never knew
just what he had

and once again
the ride resumes
across a sea
of oil plumes
and men are hardly
scarce she finds
her father's story
now unwinds

he fought this battle
with his crew
while stirring up
a *** of stew
his Guif, the sea,
was once so clear
he loved to fish
and held it dear

the tales within
this mariner's log
Would pull her head
out of the fog
he's taught her how
to sail the sea
to feel the wind
which sets her free

from thinking it's
about the past
to taking hold
of things which last
and using what's
inside of you
to break the cycle
cook the stew

to forge ahead
and let it go
you must read on
or never know
now seeing that
his book will end
she slows her eyes
and takes his pen

and writes a note
on every page
attempting to now
quell the rage
for how could he
who claimed to love
allow her pain
to rise above

the peaceful calm
she's found within
his final passage
'tis a sin
and still, one day
he shouts "LAND **!'
the end approaches
heart in tow

she will not greet
the writer's end
nor leave this place
of make-pretend
She will not listen
anymore
but drops her anchor
just off shore

and won't accept
the last surprise
but stills his voice
and shuts his eyes
she fights against
the frothy foam
while bailing water
from her own

she cannot bear
to lose him twice
his loving presence
his sound advice
on written pages
this the book
about his life
at sea
the cook

for days to come
the text will sit
with marker near
the end of it
for this her only
comfort now
to know he waits
for her somehow

and days will come
and days will turn
to weeks, then months
a year to burn
the only way
for this old lass
to ever move
beyond the pass

to go and read
the final pages
put to rest
her rock of ages
to do the only
thing she can
to free herself
from limbo land

She finds the book
upon her shelf
and opening
it for herself
She'll read the words
the man had written
years before
when he was smitten

on that page
and by his hand
a blessing that
he'd always planned
to read her on
her wedding day
the daughter he
would give away

"Be sure to love
the one you're with,
and this my girl
your wedding gift"
and tucked within
the jacket there
a little clipping
of her hair

a poem she'd done
when she was nine
and two more things
within the spine
a lock box number
and that key
this man, he loved
a mystery...

.@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@>@

Today she rides
upon the seas
and sails around
the Florida Keys
she drops her anchor
swims to shore
the waves won't scare her
anymore

and just last year
she met a guy
a salty sailor
with just one eye
he'd seen the movie
lived the book
this, not the ending
just the hook.

no, just go
please. keep on writing
sometimes slow
yet so inviting
I'm compelled to keep delighting
moon is full,  there's no use hiding

let the thoughts flow freely through you
open up and see what's in you
sometimes we don't know just how to
say what's meant and yet it's all true

every word is dreamlike flowing
meaning something deeper, knowing
what you need to say it's glowing
like the moon, not always showing.

so just go
please keep on writing

Pacing the floor in the middle of this
watching the kettle 'til steam starts to hiss
A strange fascination we have with the bliss
with nothing behind us but one heated kiss.

Underneath an umbrella I stand in the rain
and wait on the platform for the six o'clock train
well you never quite hold me and I rarely complain
and soaked with frustration I walk home again.

We bid for each other in some Chinese auction
and you got the ***** one mixed up concoction
we checked out our prizes at a much closer range
What were we thinking and can we exchange?

And without any memories to dry up the tears
we long for the fire and the comfort of years
but it's just one more lesson, a good one we learned.
the slow-cooker is better and we're less often burned.

And then as I ponder you come in the door
I smile at your tired eyes and looking for more
I stir up the *** as you take off your Totes
and you ask me to make you some Five-Minute Oats.

"I made 'em already to warm up your cockles
the seat of your heart and without the debacles
I sensed that the cold rain would stir the desire
so I whipped up a batch and rekindled the fire".

And inspite of my rambling it seems rather clear
that Five-Minute Oats can mean something more dear
it's that person who waits in your kitchen above
stirring Five Minute oats into passionate love.

She turned her mind toward thoughts of God
and pondered on this thing called 'Love'
and how it felt was rather odd
to have the thing you're dreaming of.

and not to say that much had changed
from all of what she'd felt before
but just her movement towards the thing
that gently rapped upon her door

and opening, the air was clean
and drifted into darkened mess
and brought with it the scent of spring
and promise that would lead to rest

the angry pride from early age
and pain she'd buried in the deep
once heated into molten rage
had turned to steel in her sleep

and stirring up the settled dust
the softest breeze swirled room to room,
the filtered light fell on the crust
the window sill, the broken loom

the cool fresh air, she breathed it in
which fanned the flames of hope again
but woke the sleeping child within
the bitter pill, the urge to sin

"For where were YOU when love was lost
and dreams were killed and hope was tossed,
and where were YOU when I was nine
and lost my way and,  one last time

I need to know where Love was when
the waves rushed in, and buildings fell
when kids were shot and parents grieved
and everything had gone to hell?"

She could have slammed the door right then
He would have left, that's just His way,
she had to have it out with Him
and screamed and cried, but let Him stay.

"I just don't get your kind of sense
which lets a man do what he will
to take away the innocence
to mock your name, and steal and ****."

And then the air stirred in her face
and quiet came to sandy shoal
he spoke of Love's abiding grace
and water flowed into her soul.

"For what is better for your strife
and what is Love, to pull the reign
to force a man to choose the life
or nudge a man to use his brain?

And what is love to steal the bride
and drag her right outside the gait?
I set you free, you run inside
I chose you then, you chose to wait.

I hear you well, I understand
the breath you breathe, this rotting tomb
I died for you and every man
to give to you back your breathing room."