You were like I, a faceless person in a faceless crowd.
Enthralled in the tones of her enchanting voice,
with each sweet lyric embracing us with warmth and cheer.
Yet there you were, quietly contemplating one singular choice.
A choice that would forever decide the path of your life.
When all eyes gazed towards the stage, ears perking to that familiar tune,
you waited, looking once at her, then towards that tiny velvet box.
Waiting for those heartfelt words to ring out.
"It's you, it's you, it's all for you.
Everything I do.
I tell you all the time.
Heaven is a place on Earth with you."
What nervous excitement must've gripped you in that moment!
Yet, nervousness aside, you rose bravely and knelt to your knee.
Delicately clutching her hand, you smiled and said the most precious of words:
"Will you marry me?"
Oh, how exuberant such a moment can be!
Ecstatically pulling you into that dear loving embrace,
she endlessly pecked you with kisses all across your face.
Only to be followed by that magnificent roar of the crowd's shared jubilation!
All around roused to celebrate your happiness,
with hoots, cheers and plenty shedding their own bliss-filled tears.
For we could only bask in this moment of life's dazzling beauty,
as it resonated with the deepest desire within our hearts.
That there is such great love and tenderness in the world for all who seek it.
That we as well will one day bask in it's warmth and too say the words as you did.
To the unknown couple, for you I do not have enough words;
but I will speak what my heart hopes.
That all your days be blessed within each other's comfort.
That you may never lose that affectionate glitter within your eyes.
That indescribably beautiful, passionate shine
of heartfelt feelings of love requited.
Something so truly sublime.

How marvelous it has been
to see you sprint and spin
around the tree
and past the Christmas bin.
To touch the ornaments
as we pry them from their cases,
and swipe the fallen pine needles
into many dark and hard-to-reach places.
So maniacal in your furry madness,
we're sure you're fueled by diesel.
That you'll never tire in your evil mission
to knock over our decorations, you sneaky weasel.
Endlessly you have flown
up and down the house.
Hiding tattered pieces of wrapping paper,
as silently as a Christmas mouse.
Each colorfully glittering
like the flags of a medieval fair.
You've decorated each and every corner,
showing us your touch of feline flair.
Almost instantaneous,
like the calm after a hurricane,
you crawl up to the Christmas tree
to slumber under the hanging candy canes.
The Christmas spirit it seems
has struck you too.
So, here is my present
from me to you.
Thank you for these precious moments,
my dear little friend,
and especially the love you have given
to help a man's heart mend.

As assured as the setting of the sun
and the ascension of Luna on high.
They return like hyenas of the savanna,
their malicious voices chittering and tittering.
Venomous with each inflection of their tongues,
squealing in impish delight as their words seep through.
Discomforting the soft covers draped over my exhausted form.
They are a primordial presence.
I know them all too well.
These treacherous phantoms of the past.
Old memories arisen back from the watery depths of consciousness,
brought forth to assail this aggrieved mind of mine
and drown me in the deluge of grief and sorrow.
Not unlike a vessel amidst the raging tempest of the sea,
I must bear this unwanted squall and wait out the storm.
Uttering only this silent hymn borne upon my heart.
Grant me silence.
Oh grant me peace.
Dispel this dirge they have woven
and so grant me
sleep.

Here I stand amidst this old and dear familiar grove.
Where we were happy, laughed together and used to roam.
This special place, where my heart felt warm and contently at home.
In the center, the floret we had wrought with our hands together,
has shriveled and drooped, its petals scarred by life's stormy weather.
As two pairs of hands, we tended to this special flower,
watering its leaves and roots with our love at every hour.
Yet, with your pair missing, the world has sought to devour
this tender and slim thing, it's precious form shivering from this frigid rain shower.
I can only sit and watch, watch as this flower of feelings divine,
degrades into nothingness, as the mites of time gnaw away at it's spine.
Do you even fondly remember this precious blossom?
The very bloom you wished to protect and cherished as awesome?
I wish in my heart, that the roots will take to the soil again,
and spark into new life and flow forth freely like ink from a pen.
Yet, reality is oft crueler than I wish, as the past shall forever remain so.
Shall this sad, sweet flower of ours, never again grow?
What remains for the future of this flower is the only question within my heart.
Is it too late to amend our conflicts? Too late for a fresh start?
To begin anew and salvage this connection that grew?
Am I too late? Did that opportunity pass without a clue?
Should I lament its passing and bury this heartfelt cause?
The only answer my soul knows is that with meeting you, loving you, and losing you, I came to understand my mortal flaws.
I am no perfect being. I am not a perfect man.
No man can truly be perfect, as if designed by a heavenly plan.
We are marred creatures, some with a dream to do better,
to grow from our failings, and gradually remove the past's crushing fetter.
So these mistakes anchored within us all, will be lifted from our souls,
and allow us to bound into the future, free, happy and whole.
Yet still deep within my heart, a sleeping desire it can only utter,
that our love's fire will be reignited, and shall never again sputter.
That I shall return back into the comforts of your warm embrace,
to hold you tight, to love you always and especially kiss your adorable rosy face.

Standing here amidst the timeless and numberless grains that reside,
amongst this sacrosanct place where the old and bitter elements collide.
The littered sands, like yellow, brown and purple jewels,
reflect the cascading rays of our life-giving orb, and consequently burning many fools,
who had not brought with them that much needed protective sunscreen lotion.
Though I cannot fault them, for I have been struck by that compelling motion.
To toss all care to the wind and rush like a maniac towards the shore,
and plunge forward into the frigid waters, delightfully freezing me to my core.
The salty spray of the waves spin and twist around my face,
and soon the cold embrace dispels, gradually leaving no trace.
The sapphire crests and troughs reflect and shine Sol's radiant glow
that sparkle and echo the feeling "so begins summer and all the fun it in tows."
Arriving back towards shore, it is during my return that I spy them all.
Proudly like old foot soldiers, they line the shore, standing colorful and tall.
Like a grove of iridescent flowers clamoring towards the sun,
the umbrellas line the beach with each expressing the multitudes of fun
that each person I gaze upon has written across their face.
This is why, darling, I want to show you such a place.
For it is something beautiful to witness this great watery expanse,
to see the magnificent abyss, the catalyst of life, come to us and dance
with its crashing leaps towards the sky and gentle lapping of shore.
It is something you come to admire, love and always adore.
So, my precious Amazon, I cannot hold back this thought,
for it fills me with joy to know of the happiness it will have brought
to a lovely woman like you when you touch, smell, smile and see
the enrapturing waters and golden sands of Jones Beach.