in a winter market (3)

As the night wound down, 
I realized, that she 
Was enjoying the safeness, 
But I, 
I felt my resolve slipping, 
So it seemed best to say 
Good night. 

I know things could have 
Gone another way; 
I know, because 
She told me later. 
But it seemed right 
To let go. 

I've been told what it is 
That we men are, 
And I would be lying 
If I didn't say that 
I am very much like 
Other men. 

For that night, though, 
I did what seemed best 
For both her and me, 
And I'm pretty sure 
I was right. 
Still, it is a magical memory: 
Perhaps, most of all, 
Because it contains 
Nothing to regret

in a winter market (2)

The conversation turned to 
Each, our latest breakup; 
The guy she thought she loved, 
And then, the gal I thought loved me -- 
And how she wanted, now, no more 
Than good coffee and freedom, 
While I was seeking inspiration, 
Music, and some peace. 

It was important right just then 
To be the unexpected, 
For something told me, everything 
Could fast go off the rails. 
It's strange how often I have been 
The guy that women trusted, 
And how I've tried to view that as 
A kind of sacred thing, 

Relationships come in all kinds, 
Varieties, and flavors; 
And sometimes being less 
Is something more.

in a winter market (1)

I wasn't supposed to be there; 
But then, I never am. 
We walked along within the lights, 
The pageantry, the crowd -- 
And she was warm and beautiful. 
I didn't understand: 
But I was just pretending then, 
Holding my breath -- 

We talked awhile of music, 
The instruments we played; 
She said she had three sisters, 
All of whom were taller. 
I could not fathom, though I tried, 
Just what it was that made her burn -- 
A winter market, Christmas lights, 
And every sort of wonder.


For years now, I have loved her 
Somewhat imperfectly; 
We live and share a space, but have 
Our times of sparsity, 
 When there is not that much to give, 
 And even less to make: 
 We do go on together, though, 
 To overtake 

The problems that attend our lives 
Are such as all may see: 
The limitations of our hearts, 
Our time, our energy -- 
 Yet somehow, we will put aside 
 Accretion, rust, and fake, 
 To undertake, again, the work 
 To overtake

Her Thoughts

He's supposed to touch and make you feel 
The love he promised he would give. 
Between the real and the ideal 
Is where you've found a place to live 
  So close to the periphery 
  Still waiting on delivery. 

You both said things you meant to do,  
At least, that's what you thought it meant: 
But maybe time's been running through 
And symbols only represent. 
  But yet, he's there: he breathes and lives, 
  And takes, but rarely ever