Autumn is sleeping as Winter awakes.
We follow with the hope of snow wanting
For snowflakes.

We chase them through our Decembers
Searching, desiring to collect and adore;
Chasing old memories,

And wanting to make more.
Ephemeral like old lace they drift away
As they take our thoughts with them,

Not unlike age.

In the furnace of my mind
I burn to light up the world
With heat expanding a universe.
In pages unfolding I whisper to "Open,
Come in and see.  Inside you can find me
And so many fascinating things."
Expanding, expanding, and hurtling forward
Our world is there before us all.  If only
People would not think so small.

I explored,
I circumnavigate your world
And wondered from where you came?
I danced around the moment,
Spoke with raspberry lips,
Stroll up to you, tall, lanky you
With swaying on my hips.

You were older,
So should have known better.
But I tantalized and teased,
Stirred an emotional need
To say the least, physical.
I can still feel the sensations
Of the moment we began.

You will be outed
Whether as to truth
Or from hearts

Your funerary epitaph:
"He never told a truth."
Carved on stone in relief.

You, you, you!
You, like a box full of Paris in springtime
Blossoms blowing in the gentle breeze,
A spicy dance of can-can at Moulin Rouge,
Or meandering along the banks of the Seine,
And a stroll down the Champs-Elysee
As far as the Arc de Triomphe along the way.

You, a luxuriant lounge on The French Riviera
And traveling in Provence-Alpes-Cote d'Azur.
You are delicious clean air that fills the lungs
When the smell of lavender is everywhere.
Come! Float along the course of the Roia River.
Un titre tu es mon Jardin de délices!
Toi, toi, toi!

Tu es mon seul désir. You are my one desire.

A couple of stars wink at me
Amid the clouds of the night sky.
Amid a cloudy and dark night's sky
I see your glow . . .

Amid the clouds of the night sky
A gentle wind whispers, and it calls to me
"Come live among the stars."
A tempting offer . . .

But I will stand and dream of heavenly things
And dream and dream of other things
Watching you amid the clouds of the night sky
As I wink back and sigh.

With delicate needles made from animal bone
They sow warm winter clothing for the family.
Each sit, these tribal sisters, by the light of a fire pit.
The walls of the cave, a natural shelter, are sooted
And lapping tongues of flames flicker across the scene;
Children play at the mouth of the cave, running, giggling.
They are bundled up in skins along with fur-shod feet,
Their mothers keep an eye on these precious offshoots.
The men are gathered toward the back of the cave
Sharing stories of the hunt, one sketches on the wall.
They will go and track game before the morning dawns.
Then men and women will prepare the bounty together
And the tribal sisters will sit to sew with delicate needles.