11pm – fifteen – no title

as i stand waiting as my fellow officers
are led into the room…
i contemplate – what does this mean?
how did i get here?
why did i say yes?
what would happen if i left now?
as i listen to the the obligation i am repeating,
answering the questions asked of me
as my duties are given to me
and as the crown is placed on my head
the full magnitude of what i have
said yes to begins to realize…
now as my year of service is complete
i am so glad i have done this…

9pm – thirteen – no title

the warm, steamy air
hangs close to the
foliage as we
walk through the woods,
flowers and leaves
glisten in the sun
peeks through the
tree branches, making
a pattern on the
forest floor
rabbits, squirrels and chipmunks
peek out from their
dens to see as we
walk hand in hand
down the path to the creek
there’s a waterfall splashing
the rocks as we
wade in to our knee
flipping water on each other
as we enjoy
our time together…

8pm – twelve – Music & Wine

music & wine
words, secrets, hopes, dreams
a warm hug,
a quick kiss
whispered words
a soft caress
comfortable silence
yet electricity in the air —
tilted glasses
nectar of the vine,
deep conversations
feelings, heavy & astute
blurring the edges
thoughts tumbling in my
cloudy brain

7pm – eleven – no title

time smiles
gentle friend
innocent hearts
his tongue, my cheek,
caresses tenderly
touch my ear
soft sounds
a whispered song
wild spirit without compare

6pm – ten – The Day’s End

The sun falls on another day.
I call to my friends,
in my mind, thinking of all I did today,
I ask myself, but, really, tell myself.
God was here.
He has given me much happiness
and so many friends.

5pm – nine – no title

-and sometimes the music
touches you so very deeply,
it swirls around inside you
until it reaches
your very soul, and shatters
into a million shards
filling you to your most
inner core…

4pm – eight – no title

just a single white sheet
torn from the artist’s pad
dust and lead smeared
and smudged, crumbled erasure
spread, a small tear,
crumpled in anger,
to be smoothed out, with
gentle hands, blended with
pastels or chalk, working
to complete, the image
of you within me
my fingers rub,
the smudges and lines merge
and you begin to appear
emerging in that sketch
rendered real,
a man from paper and lead

3pm – seven – Walls

People are strangers,
No one wants to talk,
If you are in a crowd of people,
Listen to the silence of
People are building,
Straight and tall buildings,
No graceful arches, no circles,
Or any at all!
People are tearing down the
Building more tall walls.
No bridges
Just walls.

2pm – six – no title

— and again I seek you, your smile
beckons me,
your eyes looking deep into mine
yet still unknown, while the
music connects us…