nothing quite like it
so crisp and pure
angelic, almost.

sent from the heavens
drifting every so slowly
white solitude.

When I talk to you, when I hear you
Something inside me feels a little numb
Or is it my heart telling me not to be dumb
Or is it the way you smile or laugh makes me feel like I'm in a cozy bubble bath.
Is your love ment to be?
Is your love true enough to see?

As we lay in the soft bed.
Our hands together laying head to head.
I look into her eyes as she looked back into mine.
For we knew we had this perfect little time.
A time for anything a time for making love, a time to sleep,  a time to catch up for there a not much to keep.
Secrets are told, messages unfold, love is bold, and you I hold.
As our eyes are locked together, we think nothing could get better.
As we lay head to head in this soft cozy bed.

Have some medication,
Take the pain on vacation,
When you feel alright,
You can leave me,
But until that time comes,
Stay wrapped in my arms,
This is how it always should be.

Love surrounds me.
I can feel its pulsing warmth
enveloping me like an electric blanket.

why don't we
just curl up together
in the soft blankets of my bed
we'll shut out the world
and all of its harm
and be cozy together instead

I want to surround myself with photographs at my feet.
I want to explore and have adventures with my camera in hand.
I want to get up early in the morning to see the sun rise and see drops of dew on the grass.
I want to walk around at night and see the city lights shine.
I want to count the stars as I lie down on a field of grass and play Us Against the World.
I want to write in a leather notebook all my thoughts.
I want to have a bonfire and watch all my memories burn in the flames.
I want to curl up on the couch and read as the sun warms my skin.
I want to sleep at 2 am and wake up to the birds chirping outside my window.
I want to remind myself of why I fell in love with photography and writing.
I want to go back to makes me me.

Cold days and snowy nights
dissolve into the glow
when we come home from the sweater weather.
In from the cozy autumn day.
In from a day in which sunlight
dappled the tree's bark
like the zig-zagged icing
and french dough.
A day of mittens so only your thumbs protrude.
A day like kittens which tumble in
happiness and innocence.
Into the oak, with the window
in which tear drops
chase themselves away
down the pane and
the cool air is made hot
with cocoa frothy cream
and pumpkin.
We smoke on curled cinnamon sticks
which splinter like burnt logs
on an fire of embers.
The silhouettes of our shadows
catch on the horizon
as we watch the spectrum
scatter from the warm
cream to the dusty
pumpkin to cocoa.