I woke with a start,
Looked at my man dozing peacefully.
A thought struck me,
Does he love me?
Does he love me not?
He is not my perfect idol,
Nor am I his.
Still, we like each other for who we are.
Many days we stay apart,
For office duties or personal commitments,
When we meet again,
Nothing changes.
A kiss,
An outing,
A candle light dinner,
A snack and a football match on T.V,
My favourite T.V. serial show,
Awakens our inner souls,
Ignites fire in our hearts,
Creates peace in our minds.
We have learned to forgive and forget,
Hold on to precious moments.
Most importantly he listens,
He understands my views.
I have come to the conclusion,
Our love is not lust or infatuation,
Our love is seasoned,
I am a baseball,
Caught safely in the web of the mitt.

They whirl and swirl and dive
But do they?
The no see ‘ems, You can’t see ‘em
but you can feel them there
Cavorting and frolicking, invisible in the air
A dinner time dance, gluttonous splurge
You’ll know all about their evening soirée
When you discover the main course is
… You.

Days like today call for second dinners
Because days like today missed the one in the morning

Seconds dinners substitute one for the other
You get sleep, but miss the one
You miss sleep, but get the other
Though you hardly ever get the one,
You can still hope to get the other,
Because one bowl filled with satin glazed rings is just as promising as those midnight stars outside your window.
They both help you sleep
and the thunder begins to settle.

Ya, weeds.



(sonnet #MMMMMMCMLXXXI)


Now April dogs our sunny minutes, pale
Blue skies with nary cloud to mar that sense
As orange 'non splashes buildings in defense
Of rosy sunset just where dinner's bail,
The biscuits cut ere that eye cease t'avail,
And curtains drawn while steamy soup fr'intents
Give us cause to reflect, black night what'd fence
Dessert as we talk oer the future's tale.
I roll the first words 'cross my tongue as't stir
'Fore butter gives flour cause to be anew
Sheer dough, that haunting sense light rouses fer
Auld memries of lost days what winks unto
My soul, though's but March first.  Is it sae poor
To feel it in our bones likeas twould woo?

01Mar18e

soup in the spring
I can taste again
there's a photo of me riding a horse
but I wouldn't be able to describe the feeling to you
always the horse
never the horse girl
he kissed my hand like a gentleman
and I fed him an apple
coming back home they ask why my knuckles are bleeding
I say I got too close and a kiss sometimes involves teeth

Scramble, ramble... breakfast
These are activities when I enjoy breakfast

Crunch, munch... lunch
These are sounds when I eat lunch

Simmer, stir... dinner
These are the things that occur when I cook dinner

But in the end
Food is food
So we are all a winner

Her eyes are filled with a world of endless possibilities.
She catches as he stares at her.
What are you looking at?
She says with a smile, her adorable half smirk.
Just your beautiful brown eyes
He responds, smiling back.
She laughs and blushes, looking down at her plate.
That tender laugh was filled with such warmth.
He reached out and took her hand gently in his own.
Her eyes looked up, her cheeks still flush.
You truly are incredible
They both returned to eating, smiling at each other from time to time.
Never breaking the joy that hung in the air.