Every time we talk, this cherry child has me hypnotized
Empty eyes and beautiful voice has my mind tingling
Itching like my palms.

Every time she comes in the room, the air gets colder
Leopard-skin lover with a pompous soul and a vicious need for attention
I am her mediator, showing the love she desires and cutting through previous facades
Calming like my kisses.

Every time we lock eyes, this being of wonder gets me star-struck
Woman of wonderlust, being of beauty with hips so vibrant as to cause movement
Dancing like my footfalls.

Sensuous beauty with the world on her back and a lot on her mind
Sitting on child swings like kindergarteners and just thinking of her past lives
I place my hands over yours as I guide you through the air with each push
Swinging like my fingertips.

Crazy as it is I’ve made no choices, as the loves I’ve felt were real
But there’s something about helping a person who is down
Deep conversation turned theory on love turned burden upon burden’s release
And when all is said and all is done, there’s nothing left to do but listen to the music of us two.
Sitting on the swings listening to the rhythm of the air, my love, I must choose you.
For no other can offer the sweet satisfaction of watching a young bird soar through the skies and be her wings, no other can offer the kiss of one who’s done it least, no other can show such truth.
So I’ll always cherish those talks on the swing-set and the problems uncovered as we chatted the day to dusk.
Steady pushing you higher and higher, letting you escape the hell and tears and lifting you.
Ever Swinging like my fingertips

Empty swings.
Playground left behind.
No children playing or running.
No people here laughing.
Or just talking.
Just a mother alone with her mind.
All the happiness gone.
Blown away by the cold northern wind.
The same wind that chilled you.
Killed you.
Took you away.
My sweet child.
And now I am here.
Just me.
A childless mother and her mind.
Standin by the empty swings.
At an empty playground.
Left behind.
I just stand there.
Mourning your untimely death.
Missing your beautiful smile.
Your warm laugh.
Oh my sweet child.
Every day I mourn your death.
Curse the cold norther wind that took you away.
The wind that took a mother's child.
The most precious thing.
Oh my beautiful child.
And every day.
I come back.
To watch the empty swings.
And look back at the past.
To mourn your untimely death.
And every day I watch this empty swings.
The swings you used to play on.
Till this cold northern wind took you away.
Now a mother comes to the empty swings.
Every day.
Crying for the lost of her son.
A childless mother at an empty playground.
All  happyness long forgotten.
There by the empty swings.

If I could escape,
I would go to a place -
A place that’s not far,
but a place that is rare.
The place filled with black-eyed susans
and wild orange lillies.
There’s buckets of rain water
and spider plants inside.
Daisies and hostas line the porch
where that green swing hung.

My feet were always too short,
so Dad had to help
keep that swing swaying
while I watched the beautiful blonde.
She had brown eyes and a kind smile.
That woman was my mom.

We kept all the flowers pretty.
All together, my little family,
     We were so happy.

“Do you see me daddy , I’m going so high!”
I did, in fact, see her, going so high, and my hands tapped and fidgeted on my chest in a nervous display of fatherly concern as I fought the urge to rescue her from the swing that, I was sure, conspired to dump her unceremoniously onto the hard concrete beneath her.
“I do see you baby!!” I assured her, forcing a note of excitement into my voice that I was sure bordered on hysteria.
She gracefully kicked her legs, gaining momentum, and the blue sky welcomed her as she soared toward the clouds.
I watched her, the wind kissing her hair, as she smiled in the freedom of flight.

“Daddy,can you push me?” She asked gently.

My heart soared with her in the clouds as my hand touched her soft back, encouraging her escape from the confines of the wingless, flightless things held captive on the ground. I knew that she would fly alone one day, but for now, she was taking me along for the ride. My beautiful little girl.

Torment, guilt, and regret.
These are the fruits of today.
These poisonous fruits,
grow on every tree in my garden.
Aching inside, they laugh at me,
taunt me

These three feelings combined,
wrapped in silk,
ruin my love,
my life
my dreams

I oathed never to share that space,
Either because I pretended to hate it.
Or
But,
All the while,
secretly reserved it for you.

My friends ask me
All the time, they'll be checking on me.
"Hey! How you feelin' today?"
the way you'd ask a cancer patient and his family.
And I tell them frankly,
"Oh, you know,
some people here,
some people there.
Some corpses here,
some corpses there."