We always take a walk
inside the wood,
Where hearts and minds,
in nature, get submerged.
Somewhere between the birds
singing their songs
And snapping turtles
remembering their wrongs,
I realized the greatest gift
is in my hands.
After lifting all
our weights, emerged
And going someplace new,
that did us good.
Tag: writing
The End, is it?
We took this walk
a thousand times before
But, this time,
do not stare into the sun.
Today’s the last? Then
we must make this work!
Though, soon, the wild
flowers start to bloom,
Today we’ll see
the dark side
of the moon…
Eclipsing Spring,
presuming to resume.
The sight was worth the
sneaking out of work:
Finding your eyes has
never been so fun,
For one more chance with you,
for one more talk.
Green Fried Potatoes
I sat to eat with
some I never knew
And ordered from a list
the special dish.
I ate it to
my appetites content.
Some small talk here and there
and then I left.
There’s nothing like good food
with good people.
So, later in the night,
I went with you.
We went for everything
that we could wish.
Half-empty plates:
Clear signs we over-spent.
But, “Oh well,”
that’s part of all the fun.
Skin Scents
I push my body
closer to the edge;
Suspending will
against reality.
To feel it as
the muscles coincide,
I’m happy that, this time,
I didn’t quit.
To feel beyond
our bodies.
To feel a life,
a mystery, inside.
Your hand in mine,
we’ve no duality.
Your body close to me,
closer we edge,
And happy that, this time,
we didn’t quit.
Pies in the Oven
I’m one amazing chef,
but not to brag,
With generational
recipes had.
Though openness brings
vulnerabilities,
Like, will they judge
my capabilities?
But you were happy
just to be thought of;
This meal was an
expression of our love.
And you had
nowhere else
to go…
the fragrance writer 