The sun burn down into the resting arms of night
lights off; are now on
settling scene Scorsese, De Niro joint
eye of storm is over
restless youth appear from nowhere
baby vampires snipping dead eyes

save aged stories
to be told, written scripts a new Capote
how wise to let the vines ripen
as the Sabbath evening unfurl its wings

Your hands amaze me.
Strong yet tender
as the lightest touch from them
sends goosebumps trailing across my arms.
So soft and smooth
as you run your thumb across my cheek
-almost as an afterthought
before you turn away
and leave me standing here.
Breathless.

On an afternoon of rain and wind
thoughts go where they shouldn't stray
and wander forward to the end.
Who shall leave and who shall stay?

I don't think I could bear to see
my life's love lying cold and still.
So selfish as the wish might be
let me be first to top that hill.

But, should I be the one bereft
wait just beyond the crest for me.
I know my heart will soon be cleft
and I'll catch up to you shortly.

Affirmed

the now departed
turned into then
yesterday ticks into
a distant when

once so fresh
now obsolete
ideas of mine
I shan't delete

I thought them through
as I have stated
I refuse to see them
with death now slated

for by whose rule
was it debated
that good ideas
devolve to dated

I tried to write a sonnet, like The Bard,
to apt describe my feelings for you, love,
but it's not easy - rather, it is hard -
the words seem trite when push comes down to shove.

Comparison to bright-lit summer day,
too hot for gold complexion to adore;
rough winds, thus startling darling buds of May -
one finds that it has all been said before.

The moon paints the water
with silver thread,
And midnight is gone ,
gone and put to bed

All memories of the day are foggy,
So far far away,
I wonder, if they ever
were at all.

A mist is falling
from the silver moon,
it gathers ghostly at my feet,
and the Dream that haunts my revelry
runs on this sweet sweet scene.

Why do you come to me,
My lady ,
No creature on earth could keep
Such a vision in the real world,

I received a vintage bottle
of wine, from a time gone past;
each time it tastes much sweeter
erasing "quick"! The drop 'twas last.

~

At the present, I'm indulging
my parched throat to a stout, ale "gift";
'twas from my hairdresser/mechanic,
guess she thought I needed a lift.

~

As I "age" my own proclivity
has me leaning away from beer,
and wine's too tempermental
causing a melancholy tear.

~

porter watchs the glass
a night of seamless visage
interrupted by the clatter
of carriage trucks hammering
across the bolted joints

My pretti charge
you rest upon the pulled down
bed while the world slips past
behind the blinds

the coach rolling through a world
pursuing a dream
and against my chest in handcraft
leather by a babushka of talent
is the mouth of the wolf
sleeping with hand tooled grips
dazzle pearl that I let you
examine the chambers open

I missed the point by being naïve
That was long ago in time past
When I resolved to be honest
Straight and trusty in my dealings
This great step passed commendation
But lacked the tact in rough weather
When wolfs from dark shadows
Stalked unsuspected passers by
I became the easy game hunt
A victim’s mentality sown
In the head of a full blown man
You broke the law of the council
By hauling eggs in one basket
Trusting too much in what you hear
Or doing what you considered right

The bosom of God heaved
with breath
and like Adam I was cast out
searching for the proverbial Eve;
from the bones of my ancestors
I succumbed,
and the Garden grew in my absence.

I was unwary of evil,
knew nothing of temptation,
all my geese were tamed and blind;
they left no shadows in the sky.

We are here, absorbing the sun
while denying the moon
and her light
let it be,
just let it be.

Return for the first time,
there is love locked in your heart.