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All twilight people are coming forth,
to make their presence known.
Arriving by the evening breeze,
tossed and turning, they have flown
to be present for the witching hour.
They dance lightly, in the air,
rhythmically jerking by hidden string
as transistors, in their voice box,
causes them to sing,
a mournful ditty.

Must we play games
of word and rhyme?
Asking questions, about the time,
when we were young.
Such strangers we are,
you and I,
always talking but never to try,
understanding.
You want your way
and I want mine.
You do your thing,
that will be fine,
if you believe.

Who are you child,
who sits on my knee,
all dressed in purple and brown?
What is this riddle,
you just told to me,
about elephants, monkeys and clowns?
Your tale of visions
conjures, up in my mind,
a picture of events, yet to be
and reminds me of a day,
many, long years ago,
when it was I who sat on a knee.

I have admired you,
from near and far,
creature of beauty,
that you are
and I see you.

Secretive glances
that I've made,
unable to utter,
my words, unsaid
and unspoken.

We are worlds apart,
you and I,
nor can you see,
the look in my eye,
as I think of you.

Your smile reminds me
of far off places
and lovely faces.
The promises I see there,
are yours to make,
not mine to take,
but I will,
if you let me.

Anguish, deep within me,
tears away my soul.
Troubled and tormented thoughts,
lie heavy in my brain.

Stealing, lying, cheating, dying,
asking of my love, again,
to stay.

Dying is for other men,
it's certainly not for me.
I plan to live forever,
at least an eternity.
Those are thoughts shared by all
the children, yet to be,
unaware they can't live forever
and never will be free.

Unspent joy,
lingering
beside, emotion deep
while
bridled passion,
lie inside,
locked within,
my sleep.

Awake me not,
beloved one,
for if
by chance,
would I,
take you at
a frenzied pace
and comprehend
not why.

Oil on canvas, now at Arts of Snohomish Gallery, Snohomish, WA

We were strangers when we met
and strangers we will be,
forever,
never understanding,
why.

For love of woman,
men have died.
For love of woman,
men have tried,
to overcome their failings.

The sacrifice that
men have made,
by being brave,
when quite afraid
of death and no tomorrows.

Keep the hall light burning,
outside of your room,
to drive away, those lonely hours
for I'll be home soon,
to love you.