upon approach he sees a man
with beard of grey and leathered tan
who says come here
and have no fear
i am a mere forsaken man

i am a carter of the wood
whose lived much longer than he should
i travel far
through lands bizarre
by wound and scar i understood

to this the boy a greeting gave
my name is Will and I am brave
it is your whim
should i come in
by discipline i will behave

this made the carter stop and think
he did not breathe he did not blink
two thoughts collide
and then divide
and so decide to cross the brink

since it is cold and wet about
and my fire far from dying out
come sit a spell
and warm ye well
and i will tell a tale of doubt

well to approve the boy does grin
up to the flame to warm his skin
without delay
he does obey
as if to say you can begin

the carter looks about the trail
in hopes to capture each detail
his egos fight
this is not right
and yet, despite, he tells the tale

i’ve traveled all the trails I care
and seen more than I think is fair
i’m growing old
my stories told
but i withhold this that i share

this is a story wrong and true
my time has come to tell it too
its with a sigh
that i must die
as soon as i tell it to you

there is a curse within the tale
the telling of which will unveil
a creature foul
of horrid howl
he’s on the prowl and will not fail

for he comes after those who tell
the tale that always will compel
the hearer who
must tell it too
but when you do he’ll know it well

you see this tale it has been told
by many men of ages old
and they like I
did question why
yet did comply as it is told

so please forgive my desperate soul
impending doom does take its toll
to fate be true
i can but do
one day so you will know its hold

at this the boy did squirm a bit
up to the flame to turn his spit
it’s just a tale
and somewhat stale
sir you will fail to get my wit

it is a tale, yes that is true
but cast no doubt on what i do
undone by hate
I meet my fate
so shall he wait one day for you

Once I thought I would be rich.
My fame and name were certain.
But, long before I found my way
someone had drawn the curtain.

I realized then how wrong I was;
Egocentric and naive.
I renounced my pride and did decide
to be careful what I would believe.

What I found to be important then
was to find the truth in what I feel
To speak my mind
To cross the line
To let you know just what is real.

But, soon I realized something else;
I still was lying to myself.
Denying dreams and fantasies
I caused my flaming soul to freeze.

There is no answer in denial.
The truth has never been my style.
Go with whims.
Trust intuition.
Let my fantasies reach their own fruition.

I must appreciate the truth in fiction
while choosing carefully my diction.
I will follow fame behind my pen
and I realized I knew the answer then:

The curtain never had been closed.
It was my eyes and nothing more.
My ego driving and conniving
to keep my pride and name secure.

I know I must go by my heart;
It will decide just what is real.
And if it rules I'm due for fortune,
then my mind will not appeal.

It wasn't at holidays; we always had those.
But, sometimes a birthday. More often an A.

You came to the beach, but not to my game.
Sometimes a "Well done!" on what's knew and the same.

You said you were proud, but how could you be?
You saw only my failures and what you wanted to see.

My everyday evils I handled without you.
What knowledge these gave, I deny it is true.

I will never be sure of, what you didn't teach me.
I doubt everyday what it is to be me.

I know a man who does forget
sometimes its just to feed his pet
or pay for some outstanding debt
The worst of it is as of yet

To start with, he is always late
forgets to call, though one awaits
sometimes he'd even miss the date
his little problems now are great

What time is it? What day's today?
some things this man would always say
He had a watch. It went away.
He lost so many things that way.

And now we cut to future life
forgetfulness has caused great strife
He lost his kids. They're with his wife.
He'd **** himself. Can't find a knife.

He's out of work. He's lost his job.
Can't find his gun or one to rob.
Forgets to bathe? This man's a slob.
And what's my name? It's Bill, no Bob.

So, what's the moral? Can't you see?
As you forget you cease to be.
So, use your head. I now agree.
For you see, this man, he once was me.

This late at night
my mind is numb
my pen has molded
to my thumb
yet, somehow words still seem to come.
Soon my body will succumb.

I cannot keep my head upright
It's been a long and useless night.
The words I write they seem so old.
How often can a poem be told?

Perhaps I'd do a world of good
if I laid my pen upon the wood
and instead of chasing every shred
I'll put my words and self to bed.

who knows what's in a paradox,
or what mystery in unlocks?
if all of space is in a box,
can time and space reach equinox?

if truth is put into the stocks,
and good is beaten down with rocks,
if different birds will fly in flocks,
has the rare become the orthodox?

when sheep run faster than the fox,
and jack will jump back in the box,
if the cart is found before the ox,
can time run faster than the clocks?

as you search the orthodox,
look to find the truth it blocks.
for truth should have no equinox.
you've found what's in a paradox

prelude*

High above the world of Man
in the realm of Gods and Muses
Love exists just like a creature
in the spirit form it chooses.

One day it gallops gallantly,
spreading goodwill through the sky.
The next, it stomps so stubbornly,
refusing even just to try.


----------------------------- ( Enter the Hero ) ----------------------

Hero: "You who are the Poet
I pray, tell me now of Love.
You, the Guardian of the Good Heart,
I am one deserving of."

"I come searching here for answers.
For some way to understand.
Why has the greatest test of Manhood
left me so unmanned?"

"My soul lies broke and beaten.
My heart is all but dead
from bedogging dark desires,
and forceful feelings in my head"

"I seek the fiery affection
of a Good Heart girl of gold
Sir, your sonnets speak of pale perfection.
And, its of this magic I've been told!"
-----

Poet: "Yes, you've come to the right man.
The lonely look to me for Love,
and my poetic plays of passions.
For words are putty in my glove."

"You see, the heart is of the body;
but Love comes from beyond.
Through Muses I make contact
and with my words you'll make the bond."

"All you need is look to language
the realm of rhapsody and song.
It is in here you'll find your answers.
It is here your Lover's heart belongs."
-----

Hero: "But how can your words speak of wisdom
that I do not know myself?
Poet, your Love is but illusion.
Please put your pen upon the shelf."

"Words can be deceiving,
with meaning high above my ear.
In such ways I'm made a cuckold.
It is such ways of love I fear."

"It is too late that I awaken.
Misfortune mocks me in my heart.
My Lover sets an Eastern course
and soon she will depart!"
-----

Poet: "Do not doubt the Poet's power.
Your tongue will testify with ease.
My words will work their magic
and your Lover will be pleased."

"Let me tell you of the Ancients.
Rooted, uncomplicated men.
For he it was his family,
and Love bounded him to them"

"Words today are the decedents
of the Ancient's mother tongue.
Over time their words were altered
as they got passed from old to young"

"Each letter, was once a picture
with a meaning of its own.
And, as they join with other letters
a brand new meaning can be shown"

With the door closed and the window shut
its hard to hear the razor cut
and when the signs are not foreseen
its hard to hear the silent scream
and if your hand had shut the door
then the pain hurts all the more.

A friend who was my sturdy crutch
who brought me home when I had too much
He gave me strength with a word and touch
How do I thank him? I owe him so much.

In his hour of need I did not hear
The silence of his inner fear.
So, I am the one who is to blame?
He called for me, but I never came.
And now that I have come to him,
his eyes of hope have faded dim.

I am solely hurt because I know
that this problem started long ago
and though the signs don't always show
My eyes were blind, my actions slow

So, I am alone, without my friend
But, that doesn't mean our friendship ends
I will talk, and he will hear,
and I always know that he'll be near.

My only wish is that you'd been given
as good a friend as I was Kevin.

I call upon my pen and pad
to prove my worth tonight
As I grow fat and lazy
I lose the urge even write

It used to be in words
that I became a useful man.
But, now its not enough
just to write as though I am

Words speak high and mighty
but its actions that proceeds
Too concerned with my desires
and not enough about my needs

I'm determined to become the man
my words have said I'd be.
If my dear pen would just oblige
I'd like to reach my destiny.

How often have I read a verse
then tried to write a line?
As if, through some divine reverse,
the poem, it could be mine.

But, read too many other books,
I've heard them say I do.
My mind and pen behave as crooks.
I just feel the same way, too.

From atop a nearby inkwell
I see the battle rage
Characters as soldiers swiftly march across the page.

Attacking one another
I see a sentence fall.
And me upon my inkwell making reason of it all

Phrases fighting phrases.
Paragraphs collide.
Letters without leaders as the clauses all divide.

When the fighting ended
the punctuation troops arrive
Directing, reconnecting, making sense of those alive.

and now when all's in  order
I see the reasoning indeed.
For, from out of all this fighting comes the story that you read.

You didn't have to do it
it gets easier down the road
despair is but a signal
slow it down and ease your load

but you did it
I wish you wanted me to know
and now, as I walk on
I find it hard to even go

Don't give me excuses
Because of you I want to die?
I shake my head. No, I'll live
and I don't have to know why

I just know
I cannot die as yet
its one thing I cannot forget.
But the one thing that I wish I could
is the thought of you
and why you would.

From my window
I see Fido going up to scent the plug
first a sniff, then a dance
*****-the-leg and gives a glance
and then he gives the grand command
to tell to all this is his land

From my window
I see you go, working on your house next door
first you paint, then you trim
and to make your house more genuine
a pink flamingo, proudly shown,
will tell to all this is your home.

From my window
I see clearly, man and beast, we are the same
one may bark, one may think
but both are ruled by their instinct
one may plead, and one may beg
but both by rule must ****-the-leg.

I used to think
it helped me write
but,
now I see how wrong I was
It doesn't help at all, in fact
it ruins all I does
I want to stop
I wish I could
sometimes, I even say I should
But,
ask me if I think I could?
and I'll just sigh and knock on wood

Every time I think its time
I open up my past.
I think of days now stored away
yet, wishing that they were today.
Just one more chance to try again.
I know the answers I need at last.

But,
that could never be,
and I, now forgotten, am the last of them to see.
People younger than me,
they leave me far behind.
Did I simply miss my shot
or is it that I'm blind?

Too long the years I did not care.
Too soon the signs of losing hair.
If time could stop
and give me slack.
If I could find a passage back!
I want to thrive, to drive, excel;
To have a story I could tell.

But, this fleeting chance
I'll never know.
Perhaps the world deserves it so.

Oh magic Maiden
                      of the meadow,
get to the Garden
                      with your gifts.

The Sun is sailing
                      cloudless Kingdoms
and every shadow
                      shall be kissed!

Your beauty bares
                      itself in blossoms,
that none ill-natured
                      must behold.

So, swiftly now
                      sweet Maiden.
For every savage
                       seeks your gold!

Upon a bed of nails I sleep,
because its cold and also cheap.
I never have to count the sheep,
nor toss and turn from fitful sleep.

A friend of mine, his head did peep,
into my room (my clothes a heap).
He asked about the place I sleep;
"What strange habits do you keep?"

I assured my friend I was no creep;
"I love sharp nails on which to sleep.
Oh, they go in, but not too deep.
But, when I get on I do not leap."

When I'm in bed, I am asleep.
There is no pain to make me weep.
And though my sleep is not too deep,
It couldn't be so cool or so cheap.

When did the fires ignite?
When did the patterns first reveal?
Was it when we first stood UPRIGHT,
or used a rock to **** our meal?

When did Man first emerge from prehuman?
When did we first begin to have a care?
Was it when we drew our hand upon the wall
That we first announced we're self-aware?

I need to understand my heart,
before it takes my world apart.
From a marriage that has lived without,
to another who still lives in doubt.

Is love the language that it speaks?
I say with tears upon my cheeks...
or, is pain all that it comprehends,
and love a feeling it pretends?

I do not know these many years.
Too little love, too many tears.
I'm but a fool who played a part,
unsure if I still have a heart.

There was a man, he had his hour.
It came upon him late one night.
From the darkness of his room,
he heard a call so faint and slight.

He felt a tug down deep inside.
He knew that he would have to go.
Moving swiftly for the door,
all his actions seemed to flow.

Down the streets two blocks, then left.
Up the corner, now take a right.
Mechanically he moved through town.
He had no time to waste tonight.

Finally he’s at the place.
Going in, split-seconds pass.
The robber sees him, waves a gun;
“now put ‘em up or lose your ***!”

He fails to do and so he gets,
A gun aimed and set to go.
He hits the floor, the gun it shoots
The robber reacts much too slow.

He missed our man, but shot the wall.
The bullets bounce where they came
The robber somehow shot himself.
That god he had such careful aim.

And now, it over, our hero stands;
How fate may great a wondrous treat.
You see our man came not to tempt his fate.
What he came for was a bite to eat.

A period made a point one day
of the many roles which he could play
an I's dot, a question's mark
or the final point which ends remarks

No other letter, mark or key
is as versatile as me
and if that be proof, then I'm the best
for I see no challenge from the rest

But, there came a character to reckon
yet the period did all but beckon.
And from the bottom of the page
the fearless comma took the stage

As the period did step a side
the comma played its roles with pride

A quotaion's mark, a contraction's dash
and still at times, a colon's slash
plus the ever useful sentence pause
oh yes, my friends, I have great cause

But, I will not make an awesome claim
to say I'm great, yet you are lame
For, my greatest role is in the midst
when i'm no better than those i'm with

The period did not reply
just turned around and gave a sigh
No other character did arise
the comma's words had made them wise
For, its united when we do our best
when no one is better than the rest.

Who invented Mother's Day?
Shall I tell you what some people say?

I've heard that it was mothers
who wanted recognition,
for the thankless work they do
bringing us into fruition.

Some say that it was fathers
wanting just to thank their wives,
for all the pain that they endure
bringing joy into their lives.

Others say that it was babies
telling moms "I love you so".
"You protect and nurture me,
and give me comfort as I grow."

And yet others say its sons
who thought their mothers should be praised,
for teaching love, respect and honor.
Ensuring gentlemen were raised.

But, I say that it was daughters
to tell their moms they now can see,
all that it takes to be a mother,
and because of her, they now can be.

Something has me quite unsure
of the security I've known.
Eyes see from the mirror
how little I have grown.

Years ago I dreamed and planned
of accomplishing this test.
But, now I sit and cough.
I know I've never done my best.

My resolutions left unsolved
No strength to take my hand
How easy too, to just get through.
How hard to be a man.

But, one thing I am sure of,
and let no one else deny;
One day I know I'll make it.
I will do this before I die.

There is a box inside my room
I do not lock or try to hide.
But, that doesn't mean I'm not ashamed
of what I have inside.

I open it when I'm alone.
I sort through things I'd never show.
I wash my hands when I am done.
I leave it there when I do go.

One day perhaps I'll burn it
when I consider and decide.
When I no longer need such comfort
and come to grips with what's inside

For now I'll simply leave it
unlocked and unattended.
It is a symptom, not a cause
and it needs not to be defended.

Its been so long since my pride has let me see
I have my faults, and yes, they get the best of me
I was inside a dream
thinking I was what I see
But, now that I've awaken
I know that 'I' could never be

Its not too late, I can do if I decide
I know I can improve
and that my will will turn the tide
From some pocket, now unseen
I'll pull my strength and walk behind it
But, that pocket, still unseen, somehow I need to find it.

Change,
I need to
Change, somehow I need to.

I'm still the boy who tried to please him
I'm still the boy who did without him

I never could be
the man that I should be

My life goes on.
I am watching from the past
Listening for the signal
telling me to be at last
telling me that I'm a man
coming from the only one it can

what once was just a simple doubt
becomes a fierce and fighting trout
which swims within the river shame
well set upon the hook of blame

the hook and line lead on to fury
pulled on through life, yet have no hurry
and dreading still the day I'm landed
when upon the rocks of fate I'm stranded

apathetic and pathetic. resigned to sighs and dreams
If I only could remember, life's never exactly what it seems

Most times I would not say
what was wrong
or ask for help
Though, I knew I could
I just could not
tell you

You see, I loved you
and so respect you
I could not tell you
what I had done
less you not respect me
or not like me

What I needed most
was just some feelings
I could only see that you were mad
so seldom glad
at times so sad

I am ok
I think I am
Perhaps, I could be called a man
But that's something I won't say too loud
That is, until I make you proud.

Perhaps that we are both but vines,
crawling cross the ground.
Searching for security.
Not knowing where it's found.

One day we find each other.
Our instincts are to twine.
I want you for your energy,
and you want me for mine.

Selfishly we use each other.
Still crawling as we grow.
Taking from each other,
no matter that we know.

How far can we get like this?
Never trying on our own.
Two vines can only get so high
if together they have grown.

We support, and we compete.
In the end, just one survives.
Now, I find it's from your shadow
that my nourishment derives.

all they wanted was a voice,
a place to use it and a choice,
a choice of who will speak for them,
a chance to change him, if and when
they decide that someone new
will better voice their point of view
And this they asked of those who be
But those in charge did not agree.
And to show to them that they did not
the ones who asked for this were shot
And when the rest did see this sight
they knew their comrades had been right
if you do not choose who has the voice
then those in charge will make the choice.
And if its then that you realize
that he who asks for choices dies
then you will finally see the right
and why they knew they had to fight

I used to have a lot of friends
Many leaves upon my tree
But time has taken all of them
and left me just with me

The wind has taken others
and some depart when sick
a few just up and left
but, others have been picked

And as the autumn greets me
I have no leave to lose
To lie, to die, to try to live.
Somehow, I cannot choose.

And I, in my confusion;
Of one thing I am sure.
Autumn leaves, just like my leaves
and I warmer once before.

It comes like a freight
on a runaway track
and it just keeps on coming
I can't hold it back

At least five hundred cars
plus engine, caboose
Could you imagine the horror
if just one should break loose?

Who knows where its going
it won't stop until
the freight is delivered
and the order is filled

And I just a captain
and into my wine.
I'm afraid to get off
this express of the mind.

I get so frustrated
I lie everyday
I get no better
I get further away
when I was younger
I thought that I still could
No one had told me
I no longer could
But, now I am older
I see that I will not
I see that I cannot
I see that I won't

I wasn't looking when I found you.
I was escaping. On the run.
My eyes were barely open.
I thought my life was all but done.

But you said "Slow. Slow. Slow it down.
Where are you running to so fast?
Don't you see me here beside you?
I'm not your future, or your past."

"I do not offer you solutions.
I'm not the answer to your prayers.
What I give you; absolution.
Permission to ignore your cares."

You said "both of us have problems.
Lives we'd like to start anew.
But second chances are a myth.
Some things in life you can't undo."

"But you and me, we can be happy.
We can give each other joy.
Just slow down, and stay beside me.
There is enough we can enjoy."

So, here I stay. I'm here beside you,
for a portion of the day.
No longer running. Not yet looking.
And I'm happy
almost every day.

What I listen to?
It's the dancing of my mind.
The rhythm, beat and solos, too
of whatever beauty I can find.

It's not always rock and roll
or Robert Palmer (though more than not)
I listen to songs now long forgot
but to me, its as if they were new.

Mom, on Mother's day I thank you
and I 'd like to tell you what you are
to a boy, who's now a man,
but still a son who's going far.

When I was young you gave me feelings,
and you took them from your own.
You built in me a person
strong enough to stand alone.

You taught me how to care.
It does not come naturally.
But, it makes me who I am,
and it's who I'm proud to be.

You showed me how to love
by loving me regardless,
of the pain I put you through
and the faults that I possess.

You put in me a need to know
the things I did not know.
You taught me how to learn.
You taught me how to grow.

You did so many things for me.
So much, I cannot say.
I am indebted to you mother.
To my own kids I'll repay.

There is a place I like to go
at times I am feeling down.
A place where I can be at peace,
knowing I will not be found.

I found this place when I was young,
one time I hurt so bad.
Surprised I was to find a place,
that was as nice as I was sad.

I had spent so many afternoons
alone and feeling rotten.
But here, I found a world renewed
and cares were soon forgotten.

Ever since I've kept my place
a secret no one knows.
Worried I would lose my world
If I ever did expose.

But, I would like to tell you,
you're hurt, and I can see.
What you need is time, a place like mine,
so, I'm giving you the only key.

My place has done so much for me.
Every trial I've come through.
And if you come, with just some hope
then it can be a world for you.

Man,
Who came from monkeys,
all that time ago
has evolved today to greatness.
Well, all the textbooks tell us so.

But,
I think it is quite different,
and other primates would agree.
Life was fine before we came,
and such a time they’d like to see.

For
In our ego occupation
of other  species’ land
we say “it’s mine!” by right divine,
and yet the devil guides our hand.

Yes,
It is they that pay the price
for our destructive evolution
Objectively we hunt them down
subject them to pollution

But,
Perhaps one day far in the future
When the Earth is done with man
some primates then can try again
to bring nobility to our clan.

i fell asleep
pen in hand
and awoke to a beautiful poem
for as i slept
i dreamt of you
your eyes,
your hair
your kisses, too
i pictured you so vividly
your softness
was so real
that my pen, in inky ribbons
told the world just how i feel
and as i read what i had written
i knew my words were more than true
and so i settled back to bed
for in my dreams
we still are wed

What a special day I had today.
So special, and it was not even mine.

The sun was warming.
It was God's wind blowing.
And for once, we all were there,
and all our love was showing.
And the children
in the day,
they were laughing, having fun.
And everyone was smiling.
It was all I ever I wanted,
and it was not even mine.

My sister.
It was her day.
And yet the sun could almost die,
but for the radiant Patricia
could keep any heart alive.
Immaculate,
in white and lace.
Enchanting. Captivating.
The gods above did fall in love,
but she shall keep them waiting.

Her husband.
It was his day.
He thanked us just because,
we were who we were,
and he was who he was.
He was genuine in his embrace.
Sincere in his smile.
There beside my sister,
he seemed to strike a certain style.
I knew they would be happy.
This love will last forever.
I could feel it in my heart,
and it was not even mine.

I saw my mother.
She was smiling with a tear.
My father sighed and shook his head,
perhaps somewhere in yesteryear.
Here, witnessing the true event
of what pain and sacrifice are meant.
Knowing in some way she's leaving.
But, in marriage, true believing.
I wanted to laugh as well as cry,
and it was not even mine.

My sisters.
They all did contest.
Competing with the bride.
Resplendent.
They did look their best,
I still cannot decide,
if it was they that looked more beautiful
or more the day
and all the view.
And as I looked around at wide-eyed guests,
I knew that they did wonder, too.

My brothers.
All so strong and cool.
Among the guests,
so sure to fool.
Of four, three of us still *****.
We swear those words will not be said!
We congratulate.
We poke and jibe.
And yet we keep the truth inside.
We stop and think about our day.
We dream.
We hope its something like today.
I dream and sigh,
and want today,
though it was not even mine.

As we gathered for the photograph
I began to see my flaw.
This day that I had wanted,
it was no one's day at all.
For days that are this beautiful,
and this loving, I have learned,
are only lent to us by God,
and soon must be returned.
But we can take from it our memories,
and our dreams and friendships, too.
Patricia and Mike will take each other,
and a love that lives anew.

It's in the eyes
of youthful play
that true dominion lies.
Building dreams up
day by day.
No limit to their size.

Little minds
and giant hearts
do more than churches can,
to bring the light
into the world
and let it shine on man.

Sister,
what it is
to be a brother to you
it is
more than I could hope for
although
perhaps I never said so
I would never care to be
a brother to any other

I'm amazed by soft and simple skin
and a heart that will not let me in
and though I know
you won't be mine
My heart will not let me resign

Moments with you, days without
Alone with every fear and doubt
My mind must make the hurting stop
and so will do what my heart cannot

Please. Will
someone take this weight
from up on me?
It's killing me,
and I don't
know how to put it down.

Wait.
I do not like the light
that's up on me.
It’s seeing me,
and I know
I don't like what it's found.

It's the middle of the night and I'm still thinking of you.
Here, tired and blue. It's for you that I long.
But, it's more than just hours and miles between us.
It's you and your life, and I just don't belong.

Once I was sure. I knew I could claim you.
Then I got caught in your eyes...my confidence lost.
You smiled and said "Don't run. I may love you."
But I don't know what that means or what it may cost.

But I do know this feeling, I cannot turn away from.
Though my counselor tells me "Be realistic and strong."
I live in a fantasy from eight to four-thirty,
Yet, here lying awake, it does not feel wrong.

I know you're unsure. Each day is a battle.
Your heart insecure. Do you even need love?
Its to these depths of despair I come so convincing,
to rescue your heart and raise you above.

See, I too am unsettled. No idea if I'm living.
I'm supposed to be grieving, or dating, or such.
Yet I wait for your call to restart my breathing.
It's the hours between when it all gets too much.

Yes, its hours as days, and nights finally over.
Doubts and dreams fade. Of just one thing I'm sure;
You'll never be mine, despite what you've told me.
But your beauty and love will keep me at your door.

As you go I'm pressed to say,
you're leaving in so many ways,
and each of them I'll miss with reason.
With you it's been a fruitful season.

You're going with your brains and skill.
I never realized it until
I think of working on my own.
Yet, by your side, I see I've grown.

You're going with your wit and smile.
I've never realized all the while,
how much better work can be
with you here to joke with me.

You're going with you hugs and kisses.
The one thing I will surely miss is
how you made my burden lighter
and every day a little brighter.

You're leaving with your Cuizinart.
I should've told you from the start,
it is a loss, and I do grieve it,
and to see if maybe you will leave it. :)

But Pat, what I'll miss most is you.
You've been a friend so rare and true.
And the one thing I must say to you,
You have my thanks and my love too.

A day may be a day
and a year may be a year
but, age is just a whisper
that no one need to hear

In your mind and in your spirit
In your heart and in your soul
time does not go by
and the young do not grow old

So, you must keep your chin up
or chins, if be the case
and look inside at your own strength
and the smile upon your face

For in the days when you are feeble
with a body much too frail
inside you'll be the girl
who turns all heads with a fail

When the pressures of life
come down on me,
and I don't know where they will end,
I think of you.
You give me hope.
You taught me to find a way, my friend.

You use pleasure
to erase my pain.
Desires to allay my fears.
You showed me
how to love again.
And that I'm worth holding near.

You showed me
that I must live on.
That love and hope, they still endure.
And though you send
me off to live,
you are the one my heart is for.

Don't know how, but love has found me.
Came up fast, with arms around me!
I did not run. I did not hide.
I found my heart was open wide.

I'm married and I'm getting older.
Thought that love had passed me over.
But still it had something to teach me;
I'm not beyond where love can reach me.

So ashamed of what I had become.
Surprised at all I hadn't done.
Prepared to take what life had given.
Sad, resigned, and unforgiven.

And then she comes to rescue me.
Love and passion and a need to be.
Was I dead? For this is life.
For sure. And I must leave my wife.

And yet I don't know what to do...
she has a man and children, too.
And though I need her like no other,
can I take a child from his mother?

And so, from here? I cannot say.
For now I'll love her more each day.
I cannot lose this sustaining breath.
Life without love? I'd rather death.