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I look out the window
and I see,
a three-quarter Moon
looking at me.
It is in the morning hour;
a quarter past three.
I am going back to bed
to be close to thee.

For ever more
I'll wait for you.
Please don't tell me
What I am to do.

Photo by Joan B

www.bmoore.photography
Featured by www.kudos365.com

Must I be the way I am?
Can I change my being?
Must I walk this road alone?
Going through life, not seeing?

The fire has died now,
burning all the logs
into embers.
Crackling of wood,
cooling,
echoes through the room,
while noises of the
dishwasher, cycling,
increasing intensity,
drowning out my memories.

This island of discontent,
surrounded by a sea of loneliness,
was created, in my mind.
I am the victim,
creating my own sorrow,
ignoring those who offer
help and prayers.

Golden skin rippling
like the waters of the Nile.
Snowy, white teeth, reflecting
threads of light from your smile.
Milk chocolate eyes, blinding,
those who dare to pause.
Lilting laughter, falling
gently about my ears
for no reason. Just because

As I grow old,
growing more bold,
saying what's on my mind.
Do you suppose that
if no one knows
or they would be unkind,
looking at me,
unexpecting to see,
a find of talent?

To capture the magic
Of that first moment,
Or the rapture of
Our first embrace.

Do you remember
Our first hello,
Or how we met,
So long ago,
Of what I said to you
And you to me,
Of how things were
Supposed to be?
Do you remember?

It was dark
and was raining,
when she came
through the door.
The beautiful one,
was my Eleanor.

The wonderful smile,
a batting of eyes,
I had seen this before,
the beautiful one,
was my Eleanor.

The magical smile,
shiny black hair
has turned white,
not dark anymore,
the beautiful one
is my Eleanor

Her memory gone,
with much despair.
Eyes without sparkle,
not as before,
still the beautiful one,
is my Eleanor.

Frost again,
Sunny but cold.
This kind of weather
has gotten quite old.