My favorite times
are these then
the first page 
and the last 
of every day
and whatever happens 
be it comedy
or drama or 
something in between 
entertains all others 
and yet I
am told them
when you recount 
same to me 
as my bedtime 
story and you 
being for me 
my first page 
and my last
my favorite times

Fingers red from 
eating spicy things 
a body that 
folds into chair
like fresh laundry 
a sharp wit
that pokes teasingly 
at soft spots 
a glance that’s 
once curious then 
mischievous and finally 
playful and inviting 
these are just 
some of the 
ways that you 
silently define adorable 

Using my phone 
not to disturb 
mostly in dark
I slip away
like a burglar 
having just stolen 
a great treasure 
looking back I
left something behind 
I see it
bust of Troy
face of Helena
just like the 
one that once
launched thousand ships 
moving to my
side of bed
finding it
empty and asking 
is it that 
time already baby
for me my
love not you 

At this late 
hour I imagine 
you are somewhere 
else but at
least I don’t 
have to imagine 
you as someone 
else and that 
itty bitty thought 
is just enough 
to carry me 
off to dreamland 
where I will 
meet you soon 

I hold you 
in high regard 
not for who
you are but
for what you 
have done which 
is nothing but 
what I’ve done 
you have climbed 
the same mountain 
the same mountain 
that I climbed 
to get away 
and when you 
stretched out hand
your hand was
the only hand 
besides my hand 
that I ever 
saw reach the 
very top of 
my little mountain