There will be a soft tear,
the open door,
quiet my reality,
with her gone,
I’ve no longer a place
to be found,
I’ll only stand here,
while the world
a steady beat,
a stolid frown.
He could play these songs,
she would listen, laugh, lounge about,
t’were the latter in coincidence
could create pleasure in his eyes.
T’was her ability to cast a smile,
a knowing sort of ‘let’s dance’
kindly in her own quiet romance
he would rest his soul upon her gasp.
She might wish then to be understood,
oh he wanted to, oh so badly he
cried his eyes out over such indifference,
falling easily in the path of her affections.
She did manage the truth far easily
he chose a different path readily
aware the obstacles would merit,
simple reality, sweet its lost serenity.
Once in awhile he decides upon a wait,
well its compelling nature a subtle fate.
speaks to the beauty
of an inherent
passion – the sorting
yet on sweet sunny days
in its blossomy
I will wish for peace,
a blue sky,
a suddenly radiant night
filled with the passion of love,
and inside that memory
will I hope for sweet recall
for a time during which
I do not belong,
though I did, we tried,
there was this
we will always call upon
that time was ours,
we did love,
she is worth every aspect
of a man’s desire,
that is her muse,
perhaps to belong in this
her new world
where love will certainly
allow sweet serenity,
take her beyond,
a quiet recall.
The fragile nature of knowing,
the kind we like to deny,
that’s my world,
the crisp reality of burning flesh.
there is no matter of hope
the once brilliant scope
of passion, unbridled
desire in sweeping form
Is gone, felt in some waves,
a soft smile,
a similar glance,
quiet afternoon reflection.
All I can do is stave off
the tears that cry
the only name I can say aloud,
for the privacy of love remain.
I wonder how it became so crazy
that I can only answer riddles
in my own mind,
and they’re not nearly as satisfying
as a look in her eyes.
Only today, I realized
how easily I did
a quiet solace is my nightmare.
We can feel the drift, the silence moves granules of sand,
though every day seems the same,
the earth below our feet, naked in the heat,
has shifted its weight to give credence to another morning,
another beginning, a new settling,
a quiet recall of the night before.
Yet the sea is waiting,
and we are the ones that want to know,
but will never be told
only expected to undertake whatever resilience
suggests we wait.
I would wait for
to hold truth in my arms again,
yet today, I look to the water,
the edge of my life begins
when the last tide decides to waft inside
a naked place,
where security no longer lingers,
it is as buoyant as a summer breeze,
carry me away,
carry my soul, my heart,