Did you really have to go...

could you not have tarried longer.

Made your
excuses to the stars
and moon
to lie gently mere moments more
within my arms

does sleep hold such tender dreams
as to rival the tenderness
I give
when er' I hold you...

can the gentle touch
of you pillow
ever truely replace the lightness
of my lips
caressing your cheek.

Would that I could be the very essence
of your nights
replacing
the cool tranquil breeze
with warmth of breath upon your back

and that the breaking of dawn
could be subdued
by my smile
welcoming you back

although in truth
you would never have left me

for I am...

borne upon your lips
in prayer
and
worn always upon your skin
as scent most innocent

for this is not the mere wanton craving
of your body
close to mine

this is the voice of love
of reason
that sings so gently the lullabies
to ease thy doubtful mind

so if you must leave
then take me with you always

in one final

goodnight

kiss.

It's second hand
yet hardly used
though I have found
it's eas'ly bruised
it's bumped and bent
and deeply scarred
yet tender still
and never hard
it's had it's share
of lifes hard knocks
and been around
a dozen blocks
theres signs of cracks
and wear and tear
but it still works
of that I swear
give it a spin
enjoy the feel
of love unspoilt
from a heart that's real.

By paper-lantern light

flames colour a snow crystals dance, beautifully enchanting, to

the distant sound of singing; Joyous songs of celebration, lulling all in revelry. Each note heard

in silent reverence, beneath the skeletal canopy of majestic oak spread. Where from amongst the

damp branches, wise old saucer eyes calls "Ubi? Ubi?", heralding a cacophony of wide-eyed whispers

This afternoon, sweet twilight guides our paths as we search on ever onward journeys unknown; Our

arms collecting firewood, to fill the empty hearths of others. Unaware of the cold hands, we are, when

there's such warmth in our hearts. We toil within the stillness, snow falling softly, and covering the
  
crisp ground. From deep beneath the dazzling pure white, tiny hibernating animists
  
blink wide from the                               warmth of hidden
  
woodland beds.                        Gently,         
   sweep the                   12 droplets
                             of ice from                 all our eyes, Sol,                   
                             as we cough        darkness                                
                     from our      lungs,                       
                       watching the sparkles     of no                                              
                      matter,  floating                  
in the  paper-
            lantern light            
       to scatter across    
this   Solstice   sky,
illuminating our fates,
as cold  snowflake hearts
twinkle like falling stars, unseen,
turning, embracing the return of the Light