Cherry orchards are beautiful this time of year



memories of you  , I



surrounded in the comforts of spring



warm and pastel light



a beginning



we lay within those purple flowers



I never knew the names of



pink blossoms slipping from the sky



like the snow thought left behind









secrets



how they burn within  



yours ravaging the soul



your hidden heart torn



the words you couldn't say



and your bed of novels  



how your dreams floated on others words  



and you wished , and wished ,  and wished



that somehow  ,  I was the one  



  





I lay on the rock by that tiny lake  



my eyes closed



and you tickled my ear



"wake up you beautiful man"



in your delicate hand , a blue feather



you wearing a sunny halo



the gulls circled and called in the sky



you curved your body over mine









I lay awake at night



eyes staring back into the black  



trying not to remember



and it's raining



I think of you crying



tears you were never afraid of


buried in loneliness



and I swing at the night



reality crushing  



with no goodbye



your final gesture









and now ,



I walk along this shore



under the struggling sun



and I hear a cry



on the wings of a gull



remembering your face to the sea



and little purple flowers



here , alone





copyright 2011 Robin Christopher Amaral

A treasure much more precious than gold.
Take her in your arms,
And carry her across the threshold.

This magical, unpredictable night.
Anything can happen.
Two bound lovers, take their first full flight.

If done properly, and by God it should,
It should only hurt her a little.
And after that it feels really good.

Body and law, can finally intertwine,
A tangle of bed sheets.
Something this great, it’s only a sign.

You know you are never going to sleep.
But you will bump the stars.
This is a memory you will always keep.

Finally, when exhaustion takes over.
Last thing you do is kiss her.
To you, she is as sweet as honey clover.

After the fireworks cease and desist.
And eventually they will.
You have your spouse, to forever help and assist.

I wrote a poem you'll never see –
a masterpiece; it took me weeks.
I love you and I wanted you to know.
I achingly described your lips
with tender, breathless craftsmanship;
it was a soulful, sinful epic wracked with lust.
Poetry herself, intrigued,
shook her head in disbelief;
no mortal girl could ever love so much –
and so, enamored by my words,
she decided to ****** you first.
I'm sorry, lover, but she had to go.

I lie in bed, a lazy girl
dreamy smiled and and sleepy eyed,
your latest sonnet on my pillow –
my latest heartbeat, amplified.

let's go back, you an me
dance with me, i'll twirl with the dust mop
and you'll laugh and pick dust out of my hair and say i'll never be old

let's go back, you an me
record me stealthily when i sing obscenely-loud songs in the shower
and play them over and over and over as i blush different shades of fire

let's go back, you an me
tickle me while i'm tryin' to play hopscotch
as i beg for mercy between gasps and giggles and threaten to wet my pants

let's go back, you an me
take me for never-ending piggy back rides, pretendin' i'm flyin'
then dump me on the dewy grass, make me laugh because you're laughing

let's go back, you an me
i'll push you in the fountain and you'll grin
and pull me in with you, we'll float on our backs
ignorin' the stares
and watch night fall in little pieces, here and here
except for in your eyes, which blind me

let's go back, you an me
paint sloppy, clumsy kisses on my cheeks
and make stupid looking necklaces out of sparkly plastic beads you know ill never wear

let's go back, you an me
whisper in my ear forever
so that now i can hear you in my head
and smile smiles that don't reach my eyes
and dance with the dust mop pretendin' that it's you

I let you walk me home last night
in a freezing March downpour;
I said you shouldn't love me
and for that, you loved me more.

My love was like a playful kitten,
curious and quickly smitten –
maraud the house to see what's in it,
intrigued by all the things forbidden.

Your love was like a lazy hound,
content to dig the same old ground –  
or better yet, to go lay down;
a nuisance, having me around.