Magazine Posts

If I were a sculptor,
I would carve
from the finest piece of stone,
the symmetry of your face.

Time is but a fleeting moment,
passing swiftly through our lives,
never stopping, never waiting,
fleeting by, before our eyes.

Loving you is easy,
it isn't hard to do.
The softness of your
laughter,
the color of your eyes,
your kind and gracious
comments
and soft receptive ear,
means more to me,
than I can say
or that you may
wish to hear.
You walk among
the shadows,
of loves I've known
before
and brighten
my dreary day,
while pushing away
the clouds of unhappiness,
by smiling.

Alone are the lonely,
sadness is their plight,
never feeling wanted,
by themselves, in the night.

There comes a time
when love will die
and indifference comes to life.

Loving strangers, meet at the
midnight hour,
exchanging glances, while held in
tight embrace.
Holding on, with arms entwined,
lest the one you hold, slips away.
Loves swift moment, passes
and will be gone,
by morning light.

If I could, I would be
all the things you,
expect of me,
unless of course,
I wasn't free,
to be the way, I am.
Do you understand?

Maybe, someday, I will
tell you, who I am.
I hope you are not surprised
or disappointed,
by what you hear.

Don't talk to me with your tale of woe.
Don't talk to me of gin.
Don't lecture me, before I go,
don't talk to me of sin,
unless, of course, you realize,
it's with you, I'll first begin.

Rain falling, covering the earth
with it's mystic ointment,
bringing life.
The rain is natures way
of cleansing,
a shower that makes everything
it touches, fresher.
Rain is life.
Sometimes I hate the rain
because it interferes with
my planning,
like a picnic
or a walk in the sun.

I have known the
softness of your shoulder,
the whisper of your sighs.
I have joined you
in laughter and
when the fire dies,
know that I will stay
with you forever,
or at least, until sunrise.

Do the loves of man,
match those of a woman?
Do those who love,
lose their lovers?
Do friends and relations,
ever fight for nations,
other than their own?
Do people quarrel because
of hate or just from fear?
Do people weep,
because of sadness?
Do those who die,
quit on living?
I wish I knew!