Keeping Score, Part 2

In springtime we were younger led
‘Neath skies of blue to fields of red,
Where happiness was close to touch
And we did not think overmuch.

How strange the minutes melt to days
And love gets stuck in alleyways
Of city gray and urban blight
That leaves us feeling, but not right.

  There were no harbingers to say
  “Go back! There was that other way
    You used to go, with much less said,
    ‘Neath skies of blue in fields of red.”

In autumn now, the air grows cold:
I think I know I’ve gotten old,
My words diffuse, my thoughts disjoint —
Am I beside or missed the point?

But you are my all-season love,
And those fields that I’m dreaming of
Were what they were when you were there,
So since you’re here, what do I care?

Keeping Score, Part 1

You belong to me, the way
The earth and sky belong
To all who open wide their lungs
And breathe in every bit of what is there —
For hearts are made of air

And I belong to you the way
The autumn burns in orange gold
As clouds look down in wonder
At a landscape of entrenched desire —
Our hearts are wreathed in fire

  The elements of our belief
  The fathoming of soul and worth
  A day of breath and burn and light
  The passion that makes turn the earth

And we belong to us, the way
That yearning night caresses day,
And love holds on to life as long
As there is yet a glint of any light —
For hearts must needs

Unite

Token

what is your truth? what have you seen
when no one else was there to see?
is there a lonely spot of road
that's made from you or maybe me?

you knew one in the wintertime
when walls were painted with despair
and no place that you went preferred
to anywhere
or everywhere

what is your plot? your character? 
  your theme?
why do you linger over post, 
  or meme,
or stare at empty screens and wait 
  for words?
or dream of flight, while sealing out 
  the birds?

the lonesome road of wintertime
the isolated way;
the habits that are character,
the token we must pay
to see while we have eyes to see,
and not to look away:
for humankind is horrible
past what mere words can say.

our eyes look down,
the raptors coil above:
it's only love that is our hope,
and all our hope must be
in only
love

The Moon Came Down to Comfort Her —

The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery

The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shield her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away her tears.

She read a book when just a girl
About a man up in the moon;
She looked up for him every night,
But with the years, became immune

To humanizing inert things.
But then life came unraveled:
Across a thousand heartaches, she
Had lately, sorely traveled —

A summer of insanity,
Of words and actions questioned:
Despair was closing in, until
The feeling somehow lessened —

The moon came down to comfort her,
To stroke her hair and make her tea —
The stars lined up to sing a song
And free her from her misery

The sunset left it’s curtains up
To shade her from her fading fears:
The moon came down to comfort her,
And wipe away
Her tears


Picture credit : © Songdech Moonta | Dreamstime.com – Dead Tree At Sunset

The Fading Path Back Home

If wishes could our dreams make true,
I’d walk the fading path back home
And see the very best of you
Beside a sunset polychrome

But years come in, and like the tide
They bear away our wishes late,
To leave an emptiness inside
That is our burden and our fate

For much that was, no longer is,
And much we feared has come to be;
Until the day that just to wish
Becomes a part of history —

But that day is not here, just yet.
The waves are restless, topped with foam,
And I will not forsake, forget
The love that lights
The fading path
Back home

I’m Really Glad You’re Happy

I’m really glad you’re happy
I’ve worried about you
I know we’re very different
The things we’ve each been through

For trouble’s lined your pathway
With much that was not good;
And decisions that you’ve made
I never really understood

But I have always loved you
That’s unlikely to cease;
I’m really glad you’re happy
And finally found
Some peace

Remedial Living

A profound thought occurred to me,
Although it’s a tautology,
And that’s that we will always be
Just what we are: humanity —

The arguments that we’re drawn in
Of sex or sect, of class or skin
Are such that we can never win
And really, what they’ve always been:

Excuses. With our eyes turned out,
We void humility and doubt
That late, could help us turn about
And start a loving plant to sprout —

Because we’re human, we can be
So many things, but we are free
To stretch our moral paucity
With faith and hope and charity