The Race (6-29-04)
Last place crossed the finish
As he waited just past the line
Tears in her eyes, she ran to his side and fell straight into his arms
“I wanted to finish first,” she said
“Increase my worth somewhat more
Wanted to prove I could do just one task right,
Have something further to show.”
He cupped her chin in the palm of his hand
And said with an unfaltering gaze
“You finished the race. And well,
I loved your worst just the same.”
6-24-04
lying lax in the star bright late night
four legs entangled, twenty fingers clasping
on the soft old brass bed
calm sorted stillness
a jigsaw’s delight
slow steady movement from the rise of his chest
she joins in to breathe with him every last breath
and be it just one night, there is not a sound
except for two hearts beating astride
3-15-04
Look up, look up, look up at the sky
Look up for the cloud with your name
I’ve found mine, with ragged gray sides
And no hint of silver lines
Look down, look down, there’s nothing to be found
Though wet, my eyes will survive
Embrace the rain, it keeps you alive
To dance in the coming sunlight
12/7/03
Disclaimer: Contrary to popular belief, this poem is not about Tim. I've already had two people ask me that, and their guess was wrong
Despite the chill of the frosty air
The February you came
Took me dancing on an ice laden floor
Mittens were needed no more
You lead me through August
And September came to be.
Reluctantly - away from me
As the leaves fell off the trees.
December came, snow invites.
The white’s hypocrisy.
You can delight in the snow covered sight
But it’s too cold to stay out on the street.
Freeze beside the window pane
Despite the burning inside
And watch the man with the bare naked hands
Quietly whisper “Goodbye”
11/2/03
I like to think of myself as glass
A clear cut beauty you can see inside
Something that possesses you to hold it gingerly
And ascertain that it will not drop to the ground.
But if you should let me fall from your grasp
Do not concern yourself with my fragility
For you should not think of me as broken
So much as the cut that could be your end.
10/27/03
It is the power of the little things
That take my breath away
Seeing one hand become so much more
Just by having another hand to grasp
And my amazement always escalates
As I find your hand in mine
And when I realize God knew all along
That some day our hands would be entwined
8/14/03
Which picture to take,
Why does it matter anyway?
Because I can look at your face
And still not see it
Take your memories,
Place them in a paper bag
Looking every once and a while
Doesn’t make you live them
Picked up the phone today
To hear a voice I could not recognize
It was you, did I sound like a stranger too?
Or was it as if we never parted?
Three days more days to count
Until I hold you once again
But will I have warmth
Or will it burn me?
Hard to say
When so many things just slip away
And it’s hard to seperate
When you’re use to only dreaming
I’ll hear a knock on my door
And I’ll see you once more
Wrap your arms around me
And hold me until I can let you go again
Which picture to take?
I know why it matters anyway
It’s the closest you will get
To the thing that you’ve just left
Paper bag of memories
Some things I’ll never see
Scars will fade
But some we’ll carry.
Knock on my door
I’ll see you once more
Wrap your arms around me
And hold me until I can let you go again
"The Lament of the South"
Maybe one bird will stay this time,
But the weather changes, you know.
We get the sunlight and the warmth,
But sooner or later the birds go home.
Before - After
|