Weak from Love’s embrace,
We whisper in the shadows,
Words of breathy adoration,
Laying  skin to skin,
Arms and legs entwined,
Our bodies dripping wet.
Cool night breezes
from the window,
Contentment blowing in.

If only I could
capture this feeling,
Duplicate its magic,
Bottle it perhaps.
Deliver it on tiny parachutes,
This heart busting happiness.
To all my brothers and sisters,
The people of the world.
Gone would be the burden
of hate and disrespect.

If they got to feeling mean,
Pull the stopper and take a sip.
'Cause who can think of doing harm
When we can all feel as loved as this.

So simple life would be,
To walk the chosen path
Of such as him or she.
No regard for things of value,
Civility, Traditions or sin
And most importantly,
Caring not a **** for
The mortal encumbrances
In the forced companionship,
Of their Human Fellows.

No strife in seeking redemption,
No apologies offered or received.
Having not one speck of regret,
For their own moral misdeeds,
Living as they do with absolutely
No expectations of friendship or Love,
Or an ounce of human acceptance,
Given, shared or received.

Living a life time of this
Empty lonely existence,
Until the very end.

The lasting price for which,
Is the very path they picked.

She was fetching at Nineteen,
with her dark eyes of mystery.
Her composed, secretive demeanor.
She exuded the promise of exotic sexuality,
all without much real experience.

I was Twenty Two, older in
many ways than she.
I took her to her first Night Club,
Deep into those Disco Days.
No one carded anyone back then.

She was like a Deer on a road,
caught in the Headlamps of
a oncoming car.
Dazzled in a world she did not know.
A player on a artificial stage.
Several times that night
I saw it happen.
Her eyes meeting and locking on
to some cheesy Saturday Night
Fever Guy clad in garish Polyester,
Soaked in dance sweat,
a club Dennison of no real merit.
Her eyes said it all in a lingering glance.
It told her story and set the tone for the
rest of her life and a list of failed couplings.  

It took ten long years and a child born
for me to fully comprehend what those
looks that night really meant.
To then finely extricate my son and I from her.
And sadly too I learned, that some people
will never know or understand what Love means.
Or perhaps deserve it in return.

We fumbled some,
We Technology fools.
One more new thing
to sort out, and learn.
Then there you were
looking back at me
in real time,
Your face devoid
of makeup, hair a muss,
Still Beautiful as always.

My face top right,
smaller then yours, smiling.
Looking slightly embarrassed.
Hand holding the devices,
made it feel we were at sea.

How very strange and yet
wonderful it all seemed.
Some real 21st Century ****.
Star Trekking it, as it were.
Two old "Face Time" virgins.
Laughing and flirting,
like teen age kids.

She sits or naps there almost every day.
She has other choices she could make.
Ten acres to roam,
Under the cover of large spreading trees.
Maybe the woodshed,
Or the old house near by,
Empty now and full of nice.
The Barn, filled with solitary places
in which to slumber or hide.
The Garages, an open boat, trucks,
several beds there for her use.
But she picks the convertible
roof on my diminutive Red Car,
Like the Little Girl in the "Three
Bears Story", it would seem that,
that canvas roof is, "Just Right".

Or could it be that my sweet
little cat Charlotte, loves that roof
because it's mine?

The photograph frames a proud father,
Holding a dark haired, wide eyed boy of two,
A handsome, smiling child, appearing                    
Normal and happy.
Back in the still good old days.

The little boy in the photo never grew up,                  
Stayed locked up in a grown man’s body.
A Misshapen, painful body racked with
Years of recurring illnesses and frequent
Urgent trips to the Hospital.
The doctors said he would not live into his teens.

The little man within never complained,
His attentive loving family never gave up.
It was love and hope that sustained them.
The Child/Man suffered a hard fought, 40 year life.
And yet he endured. While all that time being
Imprisoned in his diminished child’s mind and his
Tortured adult man’s twisted ever failing body.
Causing some to say; “How much suffering is enough?”

On his last day on Earth, in his limited fashion,
He enjoyed the sunshine,
Smiled a little and even spoke a few rare words,
To his Care Givers.  
Perhaps he was actually celebrating,
It is reported that he even laughed a little.

No doubt painfully exhausted from being
Imprisoned within himself.
Recently back from yet another difficult Hospitalization.
Last night, deep in his own heaven of peaceful slumber
His soul took wings.

At last that little boy that was there, but not there,
Trapped within himself for a life time,
Is finely released and free to soar.

Fly on Child of God, soar now, fly free Little Big Man!

In silence I set watching you
From across the room.

You with feet curled up on the sofa,
Composed and calm,

Your sweet face in profile,
Bathed in a halo of light from the window.

It was a simple little thing,
Just two people sitting,
Watching TV.
Alone but together,
Sharing a moment.
No words were needed,
Contentment was ours.

I never loved you more
than at that moment.