One Night

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Breathless and quaking like the crumbling moon,

Shining on the night and to we below,

Whispering the words we already know,

Reflected in the eyes where lovers swoon.

And let us catch her falling fragments,

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Our Times

ourtimes

Outlandish ponderous propositions,
From a red lady championing sordid lies,
Words imitating superstitions,
From behind deeply dead ocean blue eyes.

But what is to be said to such trappings,
Of voices in deceptive overtones,
Guised in rose petals and thorny wrappings,
To swim in shallows or the deep with stones.

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Creased Pages

IMG_3200 The stories written on your wrinkled brow,

Each a poignant reminder of living,

Your expressions say more than words somehow,

Of your uncertainty and forgiving.

Of a youth of struggles and such grand plans,

Meandering feet and wondering minds,

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Roses

Hush your words, lest you lead me astray,

The dictionary repeats over me,

As we do write the same words on our way,

To complete what others will never see.

A symphony of corresponding notes,

A familiar tune of the wedded,

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