I love you.
Today has been magnificent,
we saw the span of us:
the differences, trials
and
tribulations
but also the love that led to standing at rainy train stations,
waiting to be carried into arms
that with their touch
allow our world to become one present moment of comforting joy,
where all is right,
and
full of bright.
I love you.

Some make a rigid Valentine decision,
and decide to treat the day with derision,
they say "it's manufactured and just a unit shifter
containing with anchors, no lift her."
Moaning "it's nothing, a card from the shop,
you're doing the curtailed capitalism hop,
you balcony scene flop."
Well, well done you feel more confident in your expression,
and not have to validate your impression
as it's taken as it is,
nice, that must be bliss,
but what is wrong with a day that says this...
a knowing I want you with a hall mark,
the look of arrive in my ball park,
a box of coca to give you a clue
that I really do, I really do love you,
flowers abundant to tell you how great
you make wow myself and anxiety alleviate,
maybe a reason to go for a meal and chat to the hilt
about how we are fantastically built;
any day that acknowledges this theme
is serenely seamed,
and,
not stupid;
high five to cupid!

Perspective is strange,
it encompasses
many a range,
like when I see Poppet the ****
my joy soars with bliss,
sweet tabby cats don't come much better than this;
I want to hear you purr,
you ace stripy rocket,
I love you lots, Poppet.
But then, to mice it's,
Is that terror getting near
should we plan a run,
torturing us to death
is her idea of fun,
she'll wreak with clawing havoc
& deadly feline mirth,
she'll eat us as she's smiling
& extinguish us from earth;
you're toxic, Poppet.
The juxtapose of difference
stampeding in the air,
to one she rests in bed,
to others coiled in lair.

In all supposed
possibilities
in the universe
we talk
with unison magnificent;
always my best for you
in the whole wide world.

It wasn't a while anymore,
today I saw moored.
As ever a tribble of joy,
you are what what's for,
fore
ahoy!

Yeahhhh...

I check my excitement
that little bit more
as the bus
gets closer
to you.
What was easily quelled drops of reaching ten hours ago have grown with revolution
of wheels;
increasing wooshes of joyful anticipation
held off
for now.
But benign subjugation won't last for long because I'll see you
and you'll sing our song.

Subdue frantic hurry,
stop reaching for a morning in waiting,
no manic slurry,
just dew, in a morning
not waiting.

Your ending they are always so swift to call,

one school goes back and it's officially Fall,

pumpkin pie quick to to the oven,

a thousand witches beckon their coven.

Be slow:

they'll be more sunny hurrahs, more bright highs,

it's not gone until it's gone this summer in the sky.

And it never leaves without saying goodbye.

We could wait
and do things without each other,
a while to tumble,
thumbs down, thimbleful
or fall,
if at all.
But by pause in
claws in;
retracted to be free,
please.

On alarm
you smile,
as rays of slumber rescind;
no more prepare of slow,
in fruitful
falling
morning
go.

Want
on was leaves,
small steps while futile implores
on the floor.
But it all happens itself.
No hurry or rush
or do
or do not,
as easy as green calling to show  
with no making low
in the months near snow;
the start and
full
of long ago.

Something warm
occurs
when
you’re near;
simple fireworks work
and cover
the sky
with joy.

A winter forms
on leaves that held hot sun
and summer run,
from a start that fulfilled promise.
What was strong watches
tumbling pirouettes of regret
gather on ground and wait
for the laugh stall of last fall ;
passing preserved and went.

Oh you,
you make me *******
at being Zen
because if apart
now becomes when,
a when will I see you again.
The stampede is fast
to your arms.

I'll besiege your speed
with my speed
and hope to run with the rush of today,
engaging,
not to pass by blindly
and stumble
but reaching,
if not touch,
still reaching

As we are us,
into collide;
two engines
ready for
the stars.

You know
know longer
my every move,
how unorwellian,
it's hell again.

Saccharine mess, bless!

What relieves duress?
Surely love and happiness,
with huge peace caress!.

What a good pet,
a bite waiting behind the curtain,
a flash with her talons
drawing blood,
you might not see it
but this is love.
Always wide eyed
from the moment we met,
a chaotic bundle
my lovely pet.
Delightfully vicious,
fanged with sublime,
tabs of mayhem
every time
& as near as I'd want
to totally mine;
on the stage of herself,
her little wild self.

No imagined conversations
where laughter pools
light and loose,
the only grip on each other.
Not to think of meetings,
when we greet effortlessly
and move into our occupation
with ease and smiles.
To not walk through thoughts
where us is the center of ourselves
and all else shelved for hours,
not to grasp another singing day;
what will
will
without will.
Now you,
now you.

No hints needed,
your own time is our time.
Waiting without waiting,
no hoping too,
to look forward
is to see past you,
no hope needed
when I'm next to you.
I gather implorations
not hints,
my eyes say I do,
I do love you.

Wings hidden well
and never spread with
surprise,
you wait till eye shut
and then run loud in cloud,
you complete,
cusping and converging,
fresh, new,
how like you.
Then descend without a hint of flight,
knowing light.

An old tree
once adored in majestic decoration
watches
a cat get fat
from a wet garden.
It feeds at different houses
but no longer a home,
shying from strokes,
used to the cold
and
forgetting love.
Barer branches see
a sudden migration
in winter years
leave a street emptier;
no more advice on hanging washing,
papers passed on or prescriptions dropped off.
A time in season
lost.

Not waiting for return
& craning for perhaps distant flap
of wing.
Or to hark when all will be a flutter
with colour & movement,
arriving with the know of bloom.
Not to think that.
Instead settled while migration back far from thought at night;
but when they do,
swift in flight.

You talk
in reminders
of spring,
through branches
that have never heard of you,
or seen the colour green.
Running in empty,
the bright in store,
what you'll all be;
a supreme full together,
good for each other.

Without you paid employment would last forever,
eagles wouldn't have feathers,
every letter full of commiserations,
without you.
Without you Usain Bolt wouldn't be as fast
and disappointments last
and not fade
in time,
no hope in mind,
without you.
Without you every fox would be hunted,
and expressions of love blunted
by fear,
no one to lend a friendly ear,
without you.
Without you soars would be stilted by trepidation,
spread wings unaware of elation,
without you.
But, for now, as it is
you're here,
engendering cheers easy, when you smile.

With you
silly fog
is easy to move through,
you clear what's missed;
my call to arms,
you call my arms
and put me together,
in any storm
in any weather.

Your boom of fantastic
easily done;
all the ice
a time in the sun.

You say words you might not remember,
bless you,
in December
and every month
with a name,
on their lips,
your name.
You run through minutes
and moments,
i count seconds around you,
no hue
or cry
around you,
tears near, many or few,
crashing summers before our gust;
master piece, master peace.

Your meterphorical language suggests I'm fake,
a facsimile,
but i can fax you a simile to show you how real I can be!

It congregates
too late
when you are in front of me
but don't start memory,
just here
and now.
Never worn
or
pristine.

It was easy to meet you,
we could have happened
on any day of the week;
our love not knew
a hide
or
seek.

My family is better than your family...

My Dad wouldn't care if I was gay,
words of love would be all he had to say,
he's pretty **** okay.
& because my Mum's 1/4 Burmese
I tan dead easy in the summer breeze,
sun's out? Guns' out!
If your Dad discovered you'd gave head to a him he'd shoot your head in,
son's out? Gun's out.
Your Mums not alright,
& she's all white,
that's why you go well red.
Oh, my parents bought me books, that's why I'm well read,
yours said "******* I'm busy, take your illiterate little ****** *** to bed!"!

You walked in August gardens,
a young lad,
sleek.
Then old, you lay
by bloom.
But,
you are in me,
not the ground,
nor the sound of tears
but the galloping brook
that ran through my years,
nourishing my roots,
one leaf strong enough to withstand
the autumn of your passing.

My friend
although I know what you are
and what you have to give
I’m always surprised by your wonder,
not that you keep anything in,
your face is not made for deceit,
It rejects subterfuge
In a dazzle
of what is;
when I think thankful thoughts
I think of you
and all that you do.

All the begin of winter cold
feels less
by your side,
your warmth knows not tundra tide;
building a space to weather what outside may bring;
fantastic zoom
our super sing.

The last of the wine
goes down fine
as you start slumber in the room above;
the end of vino
raised to your love.

In pomp
it doesn't rain,
just
the sun
again
&
again.

All the time you never hid
from season,
heeding the turns
instantly;
moving
with now,
no waiting
for green.

Some emotions
I try
to have no time for;
jealousy just a useless worry,
run away from me with anger;
self pity in the dustbin
with regret
and has been:
but the looking forward to seeing you is naturally undimmed;
all your you and everything, your wow,
clear
in the now.

I miss you like maps miss fingers,
Like mikes miss singers,
Like hells bells miss ringers,
Like bringers miss takers,
Like ******* miss fakers,
Like cakes miss bakers,
Like lakes miss boats,
Like bad swimmers miss floats,
Like politicians miss votes,
Like doting parents miss school plays,
Like nymphomaniacs miss lays,
Like hypochondriacs miss prescriptions,
Like ****** misses addictions,
Like carpets miss friction,
Like Billy Bunter misses midnight feasts,
Like the grim reaper misses grief,
Like Henry misses the good fellas,
Like sand sculptures miss umbrellas,
Like Rubix cube devotees miss puzzles,
Like rabid dogs miss muzzles,
Like Van Gough missed his brushes,
Like speed freaks miss rushes,
Like pens miss paper,
Like the Mona Lisa missed Pater,
Like the canvas misses the creator,
Like  the thirsty miss water,
Like the hungry miss food,
Like ***** miss the lewd,
Like the mind misses mood,
Like the tides miss the moon,
Like the sane miss the loons,
Like the dark misses the light,
Like the brave miss the fright,
Like the kite misses the wind.
I miss everything.

Last 25th you were all life
and your voice mirrored the bells at the start of the day;
ringing with joy
and hope,
so it's only natural you'll be missed in these hours:
no you heard
in a multitude of sound,
a million plates laid at the table and still
everyone asks
where you are;
a billion lights search for a star.
Yes, you left quite the impression,
as if anything else possible;
and we'll always remember you,
always raise you in a cheer,
especially at
this
time
of year.

Galloping joyfully the stampede of you
to tremendously splendid rendezvous.