He had green fingers,
My heart was an arid patch,
Tenderly he planted love seeds in it.
He watered it with care,
Nurtured it with patience,
Tended the delicate shoots,
Sang duets with the fragile leaves,
Until my heart blossomed into a beautiful garden of heavenly, colourful love buds,
Which bloomed and diffused an exotic fragrance of love and happiness.
3/2/2019

Start out baby paint
Hands inquisitive
So relative just live
Fingers baby prints
Cherubs to stirrups
Crying than smiling
Or going frantic 

The womb over the
"Atlantic Ocean"

Her spell fingers
Has the potent
She's about to faint
The blessing their lifeline
So quaint love yourself
From birth

You're the Saint*

Art fingers bunked
into God

The world of modern
Click of the fingers
Her smartphone
Her gift of gab tone
Cute pup labs left
alone? I phone and apps

Her lips start to shrink
Does life truly stink
US debt dark ages
Her art fingers walk the
yellow pages
The triple play bait
Truly her unique trait

She's the honest most
sincere wife
And poems are her life

A birth what do you think
within the time so sublime
Light as a baby feather in
any weather birth gets beyond
better
A magical place admiring the love
Mother and Father with fingers like Grace

You are a complex rhythm
I want to dance to endlessly.
My favorite song,
permanently on repeat.
Hooked first by how catchy the tune was,
But now completely captivated
by every lyric I memorize
And how my fingers tap along to every melody.
I fell in love with your song
And now, I never want to hear anyone else's.

‪They play. ‬
The fingers when they slip into your hands, snuggling gently into their warmth reminding why touch isn’t always a screen that turns bright with fever, yet never turns on.

They feel.
The fingers when they slide into the countless caresses rippling down your pretty head, only parting so gently to reveal the forehead glistening with sweat and love.

They tease
The fingers when they ski over your naked skin revealing the tender pores in the slow shiverings and infinitesimal bumps that raise their Lilliputian heads and come alive.

They sing
The fingers when they feel your flirty lips and the tongue looking to mate darts out, to speak of stories that lie hidden behind the brightest shades stroked to life with perfumed wax.

They mate
The fingers when they feel your shivering thighs and explore the depth of your love making you moan in disbelief, figuring out what makes you love who you love and spill it all over.

I reach a hand up
hoping it is your face that
my fingers rest on.

I know whose toes
Peek out below:
Beneath their nose,
Under lips,
Lower than their waist and hips;
Past their knees and their shins-
Toes they’ll use to count to ten.
Better yet,
With our twins,
They’ll count to twenty to begin,
Then move to forty without linger,
Counting on each other’s fingers.
Toes and fingers, fingers and toes,
Twenty wigglers they’ve come to know,
With twenty fingers to catch and throw.
For now we’ll rhyme toes off to market,
And play Pat-a-Cake
With Ophelia and Brigid.

today i woke up to see you next to me
softly, your life breathed out
...
and then back in

your hair was a mess,
sticking out in random places
looking at you like that made me want to leave marks on you
the kind that only you and i could remember and see

the sun hits your face,
as my fingers reach your face,
my lips brush the top of your head
and i'm at peace

you called me cold,
your frozen fingers giving mine frostbite

When you reach those remote lands and when you see my pain, please ignite a candle in our cold night, and make this sleepy world know something about the truthful light. I know; you can't remember the souls of the flowers which know nothing but beauty but when we drown deeply in our dreams and when you meet all the possible illuminations, at that time you may find the windy fingers of the poet.