I thought I
would be but
I haven’t been
anything at all
not that this
or anything else
at all mattered
meant or made
me into it
tinker poet lover
or thief I’ve
stolen the better
parts of others
turning them into
things of beauty
to my pleasure
Category: Love
What
What if what
of everything that
you have has
come to you
but not because
you’ve wanted it
but because you
were bright enough
to be found
just what if
all that you’ve
ever was never
even about you
If
If I do
it’s only to
share what I’ve
become the things
that I’ve found
and not the
the things forgotten
for those things
no longer make
or matter except
as a natter
of long ago
battles and wars
but maybe the
scars of skirmishes
seen and counted
in dim light
after or before
and then tales
of long ago
told around the
campfire of passion
Mountain
New ivory blanket
lays folded flat
at beds end
patiently awaiting use
chilled feet and
cool legs seek
its warm comfort
in the outside
chilly June morning
mountain coffee time
big enough for
two to cuddle
June
Already the
machine moans
squeaky clean
and soon
to tumble
the kettle
filled begins
to boil
and beep
the snare
of slippers
shuffle across
hardwood floors
and cabinet
doors creak
such are
standard sounds
of early
dawn days
of June
