A humid night…
Indigo blue...
My skin glistened with midnight dew…
I was only a speck in space,
The trees silhouette...
Black lace
A fog rolled consuming my skin,
With the breeze
I opened my arms…
We begin
From dusk
Till dawn
I will hold the light
Whenever it's dark...
I love the night

BLCostello©2025

he touched my arm
as he paid for his latte —
i smiled as he talked.
he’s going to budapest.
same time as me.

he asked if i could
recommend things to see.
easy.
the ruin bars,
the chain bridge.
the gellért baths,
if you like steam.

i could be your guide —
i didn’t say —
i know a great place
i could take you.
it doesn’t need a ticket.
conveniently,
it’s located
in my bedroom.

he always asked for permission.
not like a formality —
not the way someone asks
after they’ve already decided.
but like he meant it.
like my no
wouldn’t make him flinch.

and every time,
i said yes.
and felt his hands
move like they’d just been
gifted a map —
not to conquer,
but to understand.

even when his fingers slipped
under the hem of my shirt,
found the small of my back —
he paused.
and gave me a chance
to say no. it’s enough.

even when his hand
brushed against my bra strap,
barely there —
he whispered sorry,
as if the air between us
deserved an apology.

i didn’t ask,
if i could touch you
further up.

and that —
that’s what i remember.

not the way he kissed me.
not the taste of that night.
but the way his respect
intoxicated my mind.

looking back,
i think that was the moment
he opened me up,
let my feelings spill,
whilst keeping his own still.
and god.
i loved him for that.

Music isn't the same anymore.
The purity and grit are gone.
It's mechanical and cold.
I remember the days of
records and record players.
The crack and pop, the
sizzling booming bass that
rumbled in my soul.

I think of a song, let's say
something by Zeppelin.
I close my eyes and smell
the ****, see the
blacklight poster on
the brick basement walls.
I lift up the needle and
ramble on.

Another evening,
Nothing odd,
I lit  my smoke and spoke,
with God,
Heaven bless me,
Then I had it,
You had me…and we ****** like rabbits,
Comfort then,
Now…you hurt me,
But God put you there…on my journey,
This Jesus told me,
At my  loneliest time...
“I will always love you...because you are mine”,
Oh bless the men,
The father’s,
The brother's,
I was cared for by no lover!
No...
All I earned was a purple heart,
But Christ died for me,
How great thou art!

BLCostello©2025

"What is truth?" old Pontius said;
Washing his hands, the Truth he fled.
"Had I been there, the Truth I'd bear,"
Some proudly claim with foolish air.
Yet Truth still holds old Pont to blame,
And you and I must share his shame.
Disciples fled; they hid in fear;
Peter lied, and he was there.
Why would I think that I'd be brave,
Though sometimes pious, still a slave?
The weakest ones find strength if we
Kneel low to Truth on humbled knee.
(12-7-21)

I found her in the vapor of a summer dream
She was standing in the door to Paradise
When I asked if I could see her in the sunlight
Her laughter matched the sparkle in her eyes.

Her smile was like a sunlit pond at twilight.
Her eyes resembled sapphires at high noon.
Her hair was like a swirling touch of midnight.
Her voice as sweet as birdsong heard in June.

Her appearance gave me cause to stop and wonder
If who I saw was really standing there
Or was it just my wild imagination
Creating loveliness from smokey Summer air.

I crept a careful step or two towards her
My pulse was pounding madly in my throat
She frowned at me then edged a little backwards-
And suddenly between us was a moat.

There was no bridge or any walkway over.
She was securely on the other side.
It seemed as though she couldn't let me join her
She made that clear no matter what I tried.

I wrote a note of love on parchment paper
And sailed it to her in a little boat
She reached down to fetch it from the water
And read while lumps were forming in my throat

She tucked the folded note into her *****
And wiped a forming teardrop from her eye
She smiled and then she sadly whispered to me
The only word I feared - it was Goodbye.

The moat became a little stream of water
The doorway, two tall Jacaranda trees
The paradise that somehow she had come from
Transformed to smoke, soon taken by the breeze.

And I was left alone to stand and wonder
If everything I’d seen was truly there
Or was this just a middle-aged delusion
Providing me a thrilling tale to share.
ljm

Lawrence Hall
Mhall46184@aol.com
Dispatches for the Colonial Office

                                     The World is Passing By


                      The curfew tolls the knell of parting day

             -Gray, “Elegy Written in a Country Churchyard”


Full moon at dusk, a walking stick, the lane
The neighborhood ‘possum on his supper hour
Bumbling and stumbling to see what the cats have left
Little frogs chanting their Vespers hymns in choir

The evening star as the sanctuary lamp
Advising us of the Presence in the rising mist
The ‘possum has not paused to give his thanks
So I will pause and give thanks in his place

Full moon at dusk, my walking stick, the lane
A fig for the world! This is what we gain

We’re off on a great adventure
The little lady and me
Good times await
We are free to roam
And relax
Ooh oui!
This is living the dream
Smelling roses by the side of the road
Sailing fresh waters
Cruising down the highway
Sipping root beer at roadside stands
Taking in a play and some bluegrass
Reading a new book or two
Most of all, just hanging out
Me and you know who