As I reflect on slow dainty sips,
The light from the window
Disclosing your tea-wetted lips,
I remember thinking that your profile
Was sweeter than soft caressing rain
On the strangely distant windowpane
And that your features betrayed
The subtle art of nature's paint palette
As surely as she had conceived
The embrace of a summer's eve.

The rhythm of droplets lost in time
Whose steady drip, drip singing
Formed a calming refrain
Played host to
The afternoon canvas of exuberance
Which now bleeds its
Pastel colors to oblivion
On the pages of my mind.

You had a compelling innocence then
Which could not conceive of boundaries
While your twinkling eyes
Recalled in me the
Urgent spice-aroma of
A hot midday field of wildflowers
Full of defiant life and
Nearly exploding from the neck and temples.

In the half-light of the study
I marveled at the hue of your
Cinnamon-cream skin
In its summer blush;
The delicate symmetry of your lips
The easy confidence of your laughter
Your casual, almost unkempt hair--
Inviting a touch or a caress--
Which conjured within me
An urgent near-irrepressible expectation
Of the scent and feel of your embrace.

You were made for love
The kind of love
Which fills each moment,
Each glance, each act,
With the awareness,
The intensity, and
The passion of a lifetime.
Your eyes opened to
Well-guarded secret possibilities
I had not dared to entertain before.

And as I became overwhelmed
by your beauty
and the sweetness of your voice
my eyes returned to
the flower in my hand
its color and scent
enchanting reminders of
you
the only missing puzzle piece
which can complete
the longing in my heart.

J. Sandy

In earlier times the destruction of a man was routine.
Harsher realities, physical labors, simpler medicine.
Today, routine is unrecognized.
Many toil in settings which prompt no alarm.
Gnarled hands are not in view, while gnarled souls are in review.
The class distinctions and disdain
Are replaced by a new refrain.
Drugs and alcohol are his fault,
No thinking stops the assault!
Don't you know that we each, were equal at the start?
Can't you hear our call as children, each playing his part?
Our pains, though different, are just as real.
Analysis of our histories nothing will reveal.
"They were all good people once."
Could they be still?
Who is that inside that hollow shell?
...
C'mon, let's go...

-- J. Sandy

Love is…
Asking and being asked how your day went.
Wanting to see the world from the other's point of view--even, and especially if it is different from yours.
Quietly anticipating and being always willing to act on the needs of the other.
Being happiest in the other's company.
Always assuming the best about the other.
Pitching in without having to be asked.
Not letting fear or embarrassment stop you from always communicating how you feel.
Always wanting to know, and be willing to listen.
Sharing life goals, disappointments, sorrows,  joys, and triumphs.
Lots of small daily things, not just the big things.
Making love--not just having ***.
Feeling whole and complete because of your relationship with the other.
Feeling supported and empowered to stretch and reach for all you need, to be you.
Doing everything in your power to help the other as they grow to reach for self-realization.
Making allowances for the other, without keeping a tally.
Quiet happy times, alone, together.
J. Sandy

"He calls me a genius, and he actually means it!"
She calls me "empathic," and a "rare bird" at that!
It's all so confusing! When I'm only a misfit
Or so others call me, "the big scaredy-cat!"

Some people are's different as day is from night
But even these two share the same wondrous sky
So too we are different, and never in sight
Of one substance, two souls, without knowing why.

Each time these two meet they simply can't touch
The nearness is maddening, emotions will rush
In morning and evening their sky is too much
The witnessing clouds can do nothing but blush.

The gold in her heart speaks of soft-mirrored fall
The dream--she objects--is not where it starts
But still, she will listen to a heart-whispered call
As both find their haven in each other's hearts.

J. Sandy

May the stars shine just for you.
May the rainbow display its
Most glamorous colors for you.
May the sun shine golden and,
May the moon embrace you in
Her silver light every night.
May your mirror not lie to you.
May your heart best your mirror.
May your day have room for prayer.
May your sadness leave room for joy.
May your joy leave room for sharing.
May you love the world as well as
You love yourself. And,
May you be an asset of joy to the
World you live in,
And to the next.

- J. Sandy

In times when day has ended,
I simply can't go on
with energies expended,
my motivation gone
the mind begins to wander
so aimless as if lost
and deeply do I ponder
about the coming frost.
The topic's unimportant
in trash heap it is tossed
now everything's discordant
no matter what the cost
for miles the day's been ended
but in one place I run
oblivious, unintended
unknowing when I'm done--
just then I hear your voice, dear
say "stop and come to bed"
the stupor lifts as I hear
from heart and not my head.
So ends another long day
just snuggled close and mum
beneath warm covers we lay
with love, and more to come...

J. Sandy

My sweet lovely lady who brightens my day
Awakes with eyes smiling which beg me to stay
Her eyes full of laughter as green as the sea
Now whisper her heart's song with magickal glee.
With soft silent motion I'm warmed by her breath
I breathe in her spirit which saves me from death
For death would come swiftly if we cold not be
Two soul mates as one who must love to be free.

The closeness so glorious a moment it takes
When breathless excitement within me awakes
The veil of her red locks cascade down her face
Inviting caresses of nature's soft lace.
Oh heavenly whisper: "Good morning" she said
As sweet perfect moist lips in smile I see spread
"Good morning my sweetheart" the whispered reply
Bursts forth from my lips with the force of a sigh.

Then hand touching hand with caressing which lingers
Brings gesture to close, interlocking our fingers
Soon arching above velvet-soft are our kisses
Each touch now fulfilling our passionate wishes.
Once more eyes of passion make one of two lovers
With giggles and laughter now both under covers
I long for these mornings, the rest of my life
Two soul mates and best friends, a man and his wife.

J. Sandy