Past Paris

Past Paris, out near Claye-Souilly,
Beside a small and blue canal,
She had me stop so we could see;
Such was, I think, her rationale —

We then we went to a hotel bar
And drank our fill of Pinot noir,
And laughed and sang and swayed and played,
Past Paris, where mistakes
Get made

The night in showers came to war…

The night in showers come to war,
The flags of passion everywhere;
Beneath the lights of give-us-more,
The savage battle raged unfair

The pounding drums the whole earth shook,
With this field lost, and that hill took,
And every last report, a lie,
For what do soldiers do
But die

Smaller Things

It’s smaller things that mean the most.
We find that out as time goes by;
When in large nothings we’re engrossed,
That never seem to satisfy —

And then we find a moment true,
When what’s important – love – shines through,
And we can see, amid it all,
That what means most is mostly
Small

The Day You Know

The day you finally, really know,
The world comes into focus clear:
It may be chilled by wind and snow,
But all the warmest times seems near —

For though the heart be bruised and sore,
And we feel far away from shore,
The pull will come, the hope, the yearn,
As tide comes back, with love’s return.

Winterhaven

The moonlight in a child’s eye,
The winter of a story told;
The stars, that seem to clarify
The meaning of both light and cold

In Winterhaven, grew a boy
Who heard the words, and knew the tale —
Of Who it is that brings us joy,
And why the winter’s not for sale


© Evgeny Shipitsin | Dreamstime.com – House beside yard

The Ripping Out

The sound of only stillness birds

The grass that’s manicured and clipped

The emptiness that knows no words

The should-have-been’s that all get skipped

 

There is a knowledge only they

Who’ve felt the ripping out can say:

Though time stretch long, and legs go far,

Forever loves

Forever

Are