i didn’t steal your sun
i stole your smile last night, when
my dreams kept you busy with dreaming, for a
faraway land,
where people grow smiles in the rain,
and love’s born from lotus mad,

now your smile shines on my lips,
is honey for the nordic bees,
uplifts my eyes into the clouds, my face
radiates fireworks,
everyone asks me “ what did you do?
you look so beautiful?”,
words are resting in silence,

i wish i could tell them,
i am only the thief who stole your smile, when
dreams of your night kept you busy with dreaming

if my stories don't leave you raw
then let me take off your sweater slow enough to feel the goosebumps
before i kiss your skin away

for my tongue tells stories
far louder than i can scream

Love is not blind,
but he who did not see your worth.

i am not a woman. but
my time in the shadows
has taught me
how best to love them.

yes, i have loved others
but my capacity
for loving women
is unmatchable.

years of denial,
turns to regret-
fueled yearning for
a love ‘unattainable’

until now.

what a gift it is
to love and be loved by
a woman.

sometimes ill carry your book in my purse,
not because i have any intention of reading your words,
but because i want to have a kindred soul
to my disposal when needed.

A boat, beneath a sunny sky
Lingering onward dreamily
In an evening of July --

Children three that nestle near,
Eager eye and willing ear
Pleased a simple tale to hear --

Long has paled that sunny sky:
Echoes fade and memories die:
Autumn frosts have slain July.

Still she haunts me, phantomwise
Alice moving under skies
Never seen by waking eyes.

Children yet, the tale to hear,
Eager eye and willing ear,
Lovingly shall nestle near.

In a Wonderland they lie,
Dreaming as the days go by,
Dreaming as the summers die:

Ever drifting down the stream --
Lingering in the golden gleam --
Life what is it but a dream?

Man Naturally loves delay,
And to procrastinate;
Business put off from day to day
Is always done to late.

Let ever hour be in its place
Firm fixed, nor loosely shift,
And well enjoy the vacant space,
As though a birthday gift.

And when the hour arrives, be there,
Where'er that "there" may be;
Uncleanly hands or ruffled hair
Let no one ever see.

If dinner at "half-past" be placed,
At "half-past" then be dressed.
If at a "quarter-past" make haste
To be down with the rest

Better to be before you time,
Than e're to be behind;
To open the door while strikes the chime,
That shows a punctual mind.

Moral:

Let punctuality and care
Seize every flitting hour,
So shalt thou cull a floweret fair,
E'en from a fading flower