In   the  room  I  call
my mind.

You  sit  at  one  end
reclining  in  your
sultry  beauty.

Your long blond hair
partially  covering
your **** unclothed
body.

Your baby blue eyes
talking to me, calling
out to me as I sit and
sigh.

I  have  created  a
private world where
we never are apart.

Beating always in my
head is your heart.                                                      Jon York  2025

Long live all the magic we made.
Hiding in small spaces making out, feeling each others bodies, tasting each other.

Both of us sneaking into a bathroom at stores in broad daylight, locking the door and going to work on each other. Making out on the couch in your home while your father was in the room just around the corner watching TV on his recliner.

I loved those 60's days', we were so young and so much in love.

We tried to run from our love but our souls craved this magic.

Joy is not the absence of chaos and suffering. Joy is proof that chaos and suffering don't have to be the only things that exist.

Increase your connection with everything that lifts your spirit, expands your reality, nourishes your soul, supports your integrity, honors your reverence, deepens your self expressiveness and helps you keep in touch and harmonize with who and what you love.

Denying yourself joy doesn't improve the world - it only depletes you. Do what makes your soul shine.
                                                          ­                                     Jon York  2025

I  celebrate your  eyes-those wonderful
baby blues- because they looked at me
without restraint or shame.

I  celebrate  your  soul who  never gave
up while spending  centuries  looking
for his other half in order to become whole
again.

I celebrate your *******. In the darkest of
night I could find them blind and feeble.

I celebrate your tears even if they cry for
something I've said or done.

Most of all I celebrate the God that gave
me you  and asked for nothing in return.
                                                                                                  Jon York  2025

She told  me that my words  took  her breath and
would I please write something to again take her
breath.

Reaching for you, my letters now strung together
in loops and curves, I send them to you, spilled
from  this  heart  in everyday  ink.

It started in I think was around 1965.  0n a warm
summer day at the Country Club pool when we
were so young. Our eyes met and if love has a place
and way of being I was lost in the Heaven of your eyes.
Love but wanderlust of the soul found home from
the first errant kiss to last shared breath beneath
wondrous star strewn Heavens.

Yet Heaven pales to the beauty of your eyes. Kiss me,
love me again. Let me be once more within their light.

I believe in the power of words. If I can succeed
in making someone smile and think more positive
about themselves, I feel truly blessed. Writing poetry
is the catalyst in my quest for authenticity and the
conduit through which I express my deepest thoughts
and emotions.
                                                       ­                                    Jon York  2025

I  traveled  the  world,
experienced adventures,
overcame obstacles,
transcended dark nights
of the soul just to find
my treasure in your
magical baby blue eyes.

Even  though  the  night
takes my sight, my mind
is still fixed with thoughts
of you and even  while
we  are apart I  can  still
have you  here  with  me.

The reunion of two souls
inseparably  connected
having known each other
from the beginning of time.

Let  my  mind  wrap  its
thoughts around you and
caress everything it can
and let my lips speak as
a kiss.

Let my arms  carry  away
any loneliness, let my eyes
devour all the troubles within
your  sight.

                                                                                               Jon York 2025

Lying  in a soft Kansas  meadow
with my dog and the  cows close
by under a diamond studded
sky  on  a  cold  winter  night
vibrating  with magic,  I read
your story written in the stars.

Marveling  at  the  full  moon
I  see your face looking at me,
your moonbeam eyes reading
my  innermost  being  like an
open book.

One  soul  we  are  in  many
different manifestations looking
down on earth with compassionate
moonbeam eyes.

But  I  like the  one where you
are sitting on a rock and a
hundred times you brush your
hair, a golden wave flowing to
your hips, as you long for my
gentle touch.
                                                          ­                                  Jon York   2025

The  words I  write in  my poems
are like an open book of my heart.

Long  ago  one  night  your voice
became my favorite sound. There
was  no  going  back  for  me.

Even  now,  so many  years  since,
I still seek tunes of you, vibrations
of  your  truth  as  before.

Yes  your  voice is still my favorite
music. My desired song.

Thank  you  for  not  sealing  shut
my open book.
                                                                                                 Jon York   2025