Just past the places where we used to walk, Along the shore as evening fell in grace, There're still the echoes of our murmured talk And palm tree shadows once that touched your face. For dark though grows the water off the dock, And weary grows the heart that wonders why, Just past the places … Continue reading "Sonnet on the Beach"
A on again, off again, thing.
I wander freely in and out of dreams Along a path where long ago we walked; By tires on long ropes, swung over streams, Where crickets chirped and frogs croaked as we talked – And as young lovers do, we also did. I loved the shy excitement of your eyes; Your quick’ning breath, as on … Continue reading "I Wander Freely"
The seasons come and go, and we retire Into a book, a series or a show; To football games, or RPG’s we flee, Escaping from that thing we do not know, And yet which haunts us, keeping us from rest. How beautiful this Christmas was, and yet The endless January comes, and we Get lost … Continue reading "4 Love Notes – 4"
The day has come; I wander off to think. My purpose has been accidental, and A change is coming; I am on the brink Of being somewhere I don't don't understand. The years like track that's led me to this place. December coming, ghostly falls the snow: Do I keep going, with no place to … Continue reading "Where It All Leads"
across the pages, towering and slow, the words and phrases, measured and precise; the aching, felt first centuries ago, contained within a uniform device that tells what beats and syllables to use. although some variations are allowed, some things to add, a few that you can lose, pentameter, both lyrical and proud, contains within its … Continue reading "Sonnet Boom"
the hours, a horizon that never seems to end, the weight, a type of puzzle she cannot comprehend the small things are the problem, but none are really small -- the hours, a horizon with no real end at all Sometimes, with choices, both of them seem good: Two jobs on offer, each of them … Continue reading "the hours, a horizon…"
the sea, and all its sea-lings can devour unwary souls who see them only kind; we know the truth: each minute and each hour is one more chance to seek what's lost, and find but i am covered up, in salt and summer; a habit only broken by the noon, you sing to me from … Continue reading "the soft part of the wave"
Thoughts on a morning walk.