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Neighborhood’s not changed too much
The house still looks the same
But there stands my old mailbox
With someone else’s name

By that window there she'd hold me tight
We'd listen to the rain
The years roll by before my eyes
The pleasure and the pain

They say that people change with time
I thought we never would
But now I’m just a stranger here
In my old neighborhood

If I don't leave they'll wonder why
I'm out here in the rain
Just talking to a mailbox
With someone else’s name
Copyright Louis Brown
I love to circumspectly stare

At your Gucci underwear

I love to rip it off once more

And see it crumpled on the floor

I love to kiss you Paris style

It makes my heart beat, oh, so wild

As I make progress toward my goal

To put some rapture in your soul

Come with me to sweet Valhalla

While you're whooping, I will holler

In that celebration glory

****, I like a red hot story

It might last a hundred years

But if we don't please have no fears

We'll stay close on our connector

Till our last drop of heaven's nectar
Copyright Louis Brown
and rain,
sit upon
my eyelashes.
One shows my pain, one washes it away.

The grey clouds are one with my breaking heart.
Shedding their pain
in tune with
my souls

that Grandma
is leaving me,
is easier to say than to live through.

Each slowing beat of her heart pierces me.
My second mom,
my best friend,

grace and
wisdom will
stay with me still.
I am, today, the woman she molded.

Touching so many, giving of herself.
Angel on earth,
soon to be
This is written in the poetic form of "Tetractys"  The scheme is a syllable count of 1,2,3,4,10...then reverse the count 10,4,3,2,1 and so on
The woman poured herself another glass of wine,
Like another night alone.
The house was empty,
And the humming of the dishwasher bounced off the walls.
She sat by the window and pulled the black heels off her feet.
This was beginning to get old.
People outside paced in pairs.
Her house was dark.
The only light came from the kitchen,
glowing out to the adjacent ro0m.
She sipped at her wine, and rested the glass on her knee.
With an exasperated sigh,
She threw the wine glass against the opposite wall.
The glass flew, sparkling in the dim light
And merlot ran down the white wall.
She dusted off her hands, and undressed silently.
In the bathroom, she started water for a shower.
In silence, once again, she stood under the rush of water.
An hour's time went by, and the water was shut off.
Without bothering to dry herself, she stepped out,
And fell into bed.
I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

— The End —