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Candles burning brightly,
forming circles on the ground,
flickering, lying quietly,
making not a sound,
like a bent blade of grass,
covered with dew.

Ceremonies of darkness,
casting its certain spell.
What is it that you saw,
that you knew so well?

Gone are the days,
gone from your mind,
of seeing or believing
or of trying hard to find.
A place where you can be,
alone when you would like,
some peace of mind.

Sit you there, with your hair,
lying now unfolded,
draped about your shoulders,
a living shawl.
Shadows play, among your breast,
as sunlit fingers passes,
across your nakedness.

There was a time, not long ago,
when I could talk to you,
about our daily tasks
and what we would like to do.
Those days, long gone from us,
as the words of yesterday,
will be said again tomorrow,
as if new.
I will be here for you, love,
each and every day,
until such time that God decides,
it's time to go away.

Beautiful sunset tonight - Saratoga Pass, Camano Island

If I were a writer of melodies,
sad songs would be my forte,
for sadness comes the easiest
to those who sit and wait
and do nothing, simply nothing,
to change.
Weep not for those sad songs
for they are merely words,
of frustrated lovers,
stating their lament,
of sadness.

Crawl up on my shoulder,
little one,
nestle up, close, behind my ear.
Whisper gently, all your secrets,
tell me the wonders, I want to hear.
Make this place your refuge,
stay close to me, unless you'd
rather be,
off on some romantic venture,
far across the hill and past the sea.

Won't you lie down beside me
and tell me all you know,
about your dreams and wishes
and where you'd like to go.

Let me lie beside you
and I'll talk to you of love
and all the wondrous beauty
that shines from up above.

Let me fill your ears with laughter,
watch the love spill from my eyes,
as I caress you, oh so gently,
enraptured by your sighs.

Stand alone
with strength,
never bending,
to those who would
have you be,
that which you are not.
Let those who chide,
in spiteful manner,
choose carefully,
the words they say.

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