Some poems are like naughty children
Who have grown into their young adulthood.
They simply drop their clothes, a quick reveal.
Other poems are like the dancer of the 7 veils
Who peels layer after layer in the slow reveal.
A poem is like a beloved child, good or bad.

Yes, I would come
And take it away with me.
But I know that you need it
To live and feel and breathe.
So, I'll leave it for now
As long as you remain
Next to me.

The heart of the matter?
The heart matters,
The heart of matter.
Plays on words, these.
Yes, I call your name,
Remain, remain, remain!
For your heart matters.

I would come
And take it away with me.
But I know that you need it
To live and feel and breathe.
So, I'll leave it for now
As long as you remain
Next to me.

The walls of this ragged world
Are too thin, and I, with ear hear,
Listening through the thin plaster,
Do not like what I am hearing.
Someone, please call a repairman.

Every day
Is special
When you
Love.

When the sun begins its rise
And as it moves into view
Rising higher in the heavens,
It grows in its spectacular glow
And it sprinkles golden dust
On everything it touches.
It is a magical period in time,
This golden hour, which belongs
To the sun and its glorious rise
And is then gifted to us.

We are
As ancient forests
Petrified through time
Flesh traded for minerals
Minerals turned into stone
We stand firm with no life
Isolated in our inability
To reach one another
We stand together
Yet alone hardhearted