your coming in with the rising sun
in soft morning light and glistening dew
made me think life could be  a huge smile
and that nothing about you could be a trifle

conversation with you was like lyrical poetry
full of measured tones and profound emotion
words are wholesome food when one is enamoured
you sip their oozing nectar at every sugary pause

your voice was like a heavenly harp magically played
by expert fingers dancing to an inspired melody
that only i and they could hear, and cherish like a dream
thus see me now with my face still ravaged by possibilities

but alas, you decided to take your leave with the dying day
and i knew my bewilderment would last the stretch of eternity
you walked away into the twilight and never once looked back
those who go away with the setting sun do not always rise with it

.

How do we mend wavering pedestals...
When the ground beneath is parched dry.
Stemming off loose foundations that time had weathered wry.

How do we mend broken gazes...
When watchful eyes which were meant to see,
are blinded by the onslaught of half-truths and fallacy.

How do we mend burnt bridges...
When we never look back to trace heavy missteps.
We fail to admit to consciously springing obvious traps.

How do I mend ailing hearts...
When familiar corridors seem warped to a bend.
When my own is struggling and perpetually on the mend.

Heythere lake humongous.
These thunderheads make me feel
soo midwestern.
Just (simile) the bruis-eyed poet,
skinny in a paint hardened shirt,
backlit by the lamp-shine off dark wood.
Maybe a broken radio in the foreground.
Maybe a wife on Facebook.
Maybe some kid crying out
"I stepped on a ga'**** picker bush!"

The lights all up around me
They dance and flicker
Swirling up and down each tree
As the music gets quicker
What a colorful holiday
Something new around each bend
We climb into Santa’s sleigh
And begin to ascend
The clouds fall below us
As we are launched into the sky
The turns we took were brusque
But the heavens never felt so nigh…
...
...
I cover you with a quilt
For the sleigh keeps climbing higher
Towards your hometown we tilt
I wonder, what will transpire?
There’s something big in the back
Is it full of coal?
Perhaps there’s something else in that sack
A doll, a plane, a little toy troll?
Perhaps we will find out
Your hometown draws near
Rudolf raises his red snout
Followed by the rest of the reindeer…
...
...
They shift their gaze
Towards a landing strip
People down there in a craze
We must look like a spaceship
They angle their flight
Right down the middle
It is quite the sight
And the thrill makes us giggle
What’s going on down below?
I ask Santa sitting up front
“I don’t really know”
He says as a reindeer grunts
“They must be waiting for you
Down there, to see what took place
For you came back with her,
That’s not exactly commonplace”
I look back at you, and you meet my gaze
Together we’ll get through
Of that I have no doubt
The sleigh is landing now
There is no backing out…
...
...
Santa pulls up on the reins
On the landing strip the sleigh glides
Only stepping out remains
As we do, the crowd divides
There in the middle
Surrounded by curious people
Stands a man with thumbs he twiddles
He looks more nervous than you or I
I grab your hand and look back again
This is it, we feel suddenly shy
Now’s not the time, so confidence we feign
We look forward and meet his eye
He looks at us and gives a sigh
“Dad?” you say
You look back at me, with display
Introductions are made
Feelings are conveyed
We no longer stand in a masquerade
Everything is out
The closet has swung open
We have nothing left to hide
You squeeze my hand
I coincide
As we look to your dad and wait
…
…
He looks at you with love
Then he looks at me squarely
Before he can say a word
Santa breaks in and shouts “let’s all be merry!”
The crowd breaks into laughter
As Santa sates the air with a magic
And joy fills everyone’s thoughts
Your father looks at us again
This time, with a smile, he simply nods

Sometimes I just look at you and smile,
Because I see glimmers of the future in your eyes...
And my god I've never looked happier.

May our love be modern enough to survive the times,
but old fashioned enough to last forever.

How long until all my laundry smells different?
Do the walls even look the same with me not there?
Send me a postcard of your new stage of life
I want to reminisce on all of our plights

You look like one big freckle
The way that you are covered
From your head down to your toes
One end to the other

In the tint, shade, and color
Blending perfectly
Pink in pigmentation
All points in between

You look like you're from Florida
Sporting the finest tan
With not an inch of acreage left
In epidermis land

If freckles told a story
In all their sun drenched glory
You would be the greatest read
Of that you have no worries