I have a Buddy,
True Buddy,
A Buddy all life long,
When days are long
My Buddy,
Makes right
All that's wrong.

I have a Buddy,
Dear Buddy,
A Buddy when I'm glad,
For years I know
My Buddy,
Can always count on Dad.

My little Buddy
Has a Buddy,
To always depend on;
When Buddy
Needs her Buddy,
She'll always hear her song:

     I want you Buddy
     To read to me,
     Walk with me,
     Skate with me,
     To share with me,
     To laugh with me,
     Sometimes
     To cry with me.
     I need you Buddy
     To stand with me,
     Grow with me,
     Be by me.

I have a Buddy,
True Buddy,
A Buddy
All life long.
When days are long
My Buddy,
Makes right
All that's wrong.

Your soft morning sighs reach me
I crack open wishful lids to view
The perfect curve of your bearded cheek
Warm rays blind
The sun is bright too I suppose
Compared to you though...
What sun?
You light me up
Soul spark ignited
Seeking out the sore spots, rubbing deep
No cobwebbed corner goes untouched
Just when I start to drift back off in your arms
You kiss softly at the base of my neck
I arch back into your waiting heat
Arousal placed, rhythm reached
We are lost in each other's push and pull
Hard, fast, hair wrapped around rough hands
I come swiftly, wet clenches tight around you
Milking
You reach me at your peek, explode
Our moans of satisfaction dotting the air between us
Laying entwined, thinking softly as sleep claims our sated minds
*I'll be here when you wake up.

"we are learning to ...
fish in the river of sorrow"*
Faith Sherien

this has been a year of
hard lessons.....
of trying,
again and again,
to perfect the the cast
to catch, cleanly,
the fish of loss.

to split it open,
and seize it's innards...
the stench, the messiness,
the ichor, the guts.

to scale the skin,
rough, cutting scales,
little tear shaped discs.

to eat of the flesh....
chewing, chewing, chewing
on the hope of afterlife.

and picking the bones clean
of delicate, delectable memories....

hard lessons,
too many this year,
yet all a part,
of a fishermans journey....
down, the river of sorrow.

Life that we lead
Intrinsic in ways
Seeming melodic
Harmonious to the cause
For what we are
Is just pure
Coincidence

Summer's warm currents retreat
the advancing brisk amber sunsets.

Submerging the world under
the reign of enduring starry nights.

The maples blush as Autumn whispers
the gentle lullaby of Winter's sweet breath.

Erasing Summer's memory with a crimson brush
preparing the golden landscape's long frigid rest.

~~~