In between I look

into the garden, hoping --


we'll be silent now.

I want to see you,

that's it, you really don't have --


to be sociable.

The first glance

Unsteady, unsure

One beautiful smile

One thoughtful flutter

Godspeed you butterfly!

She comes to my shoulder

And pins a rose on me

She leaves a note

She lifts the net

But wants no words to her song

She is from November

And I am from snow

We stand together

And everything is new

arms brush on the hands of a clock.
infatuation discovers love
longing to twist and turn into one another.
caught between the tick.
every second that passes
they wait to cross
the hour becomes an echo.
reverberating in hesitation.
anxiety grows impatient.
each minute expanding to that grand moment.
their shadows contract.
the tension of the world fades.
their skin darker than their shadow now.
in a heart beat the clock tocks.
you cannot tell them apart

Your voice forms the bricks
Of a well built home.
It holds in warmth on a hot day
And stores heat on the cold days.
Your voice is a shelter
One that thunderstorms should fear.
Regardless of strength.
Once it dissolves.
Embers of warmth
Still reside within the bricks.
When you speak,
I find that I am home.
A place I am whole.
A place I am safe.
I always know where you are.
Even with both eyes closed.
Between the mortar of bricks
I find your breath
And lay my head beside yours.
The walls a rich tapestry
Framed in communication,
Filled with your breath and pulse.
I live in your marrow.
My every forgotten dream
Rested and remembered.
Your voice forms the bricks
Of this well built home.
Reminding me
That love. Is not just a word