Bubbles

The “market” has its bubbles; so do we.
The times when things seemed better than they were:
As though we had passed all disharmony
And that, what pained us didn’t quite occur

And though we can pretend we’re free at heart,
And like we were, back when our love was first –
These bubbles that we make just drift apart
For seconds in the sun, before
They burst

Perfection

She’s having a bad day, and tells him so.
That she’s just flawed, and full of dearth and lack:
He says to her, at ceasing of her flow:

Perfection called, it wants its essence back.
I know no one more capable or smart;
So good at all the many things you do.

I know nobody with a better heart,
Or anyone who’s half as good as you.
But yet, I know your troubled with it all;

I sympathize with you, in honesty.
But I want you to know, whate’er befall,
That you’re perfection, always, love
To me

It Comes In Waves

Our piled up problems, maddening;
Our heartaches, ever saddening.
To face head on? To hide in caves?
When trouble comes,
It comes in waves

But opportunities arise –
Many at once, to our surprise.
Which one’s our downfall? Which one saves?
When chances come
They come in waves

And now the words infect my mind
All sound, no meaning – double blind –
The noise that haunts us to our graves
When chaos comes
It comes in waves
It comes it comes
It comes
In waves