I knew things years ago
in ways long since forgotten
that I was dearly loved,
and summers' caressing breeze
whispers your name to my lips
while toying with my hair
recalling your absent touch.
Is it now? Is it now?
It has been forever
and still I wonder how
a twilight existence of ephemeral shadow
became a grim reality.
Assuredly,
my past does come to call and ride
the merry-go-round of my mind
taking but a moment
to engulf my present
and make it less a gift.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Memories
I
Not long before the dawn
I rose to watch you sleeping,
not knowing 'twas my intent
to bask in the holiness that covered you,
and there staying at your side
'til your waking fingers slipped around mine,
sleepy-soft eyes fluttering
to revive mornings' kiss
and greeting, "Daddy."
III
My un-poetic imaginings
recall her staring into another's eyes
as we had peered to depth
in our beautiful eyes,
and I drank the lees of her wine. . .
IV
I had to dissect a live frog once,
and knowing what to expect
was nonplussed to find
a beating heart inside.
Would that I had such skill
in navigating life and love
where there exist
no anatomical charts.
V
Soft, fair-pale skin,
tender searching hands,
hair dripping from mornings' shower
traces across my waking chest,
those morning glory memories
go now weeping away.
In many mornings'
waking reverie
the soft fall
of your bare feet
padding closer
was the messenger
come within my heart,
calling in secret
II
Not long before the dawn
I rose to watch you sleeping,
not knowing 'twas my intent
to bask in the holiness that covered you,
and there staying at your side
'til your waking fingers slipped around mine,
sleepy-soft eyes fluttering
to revive mornings' kiss
and greeting, "Daddy."
III
My un-poetic imaginings
recall her staring into another's eyes
as we had peered to depth
in our beautiful eyes,
and I drank the lees of her wine. . .
IV
I had to dissect a live frog once,
and knowing what to expect
was nonplussed to find
a beating heart inside.
Would that I had such skill
in navigating life and love
where there exist
no anatomical charts.
V
Soft, fair-pale skin,
tender searching hands,
hair dripping from mornings' shower
traces across my waking chest,
those morning glory memories
go now weeping away.
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