Fancy Kisses

If I had made this bed alone

There would be no scent of baby powder and spice.

There would be no looking both ways.

I would not have learned to roll the dice…twice.

If I had made this house, cedar and stain, log cabin frame, without its dame…I would still be dwelling in discord’s refrain.

In the morning, between the static and the reprieve, when it is easy to not believe…I ponder such vacant thoughts.

After all you have made me a vagabond to your ways.

Through routine I am grounded in the games we play.

Had I made this bed alone

pillows, solitary and too crisp.

I would have never fancied your kiss.

Local Girls

Forested farmland
Field of greens
A vision that sought me out while on a comforter of limes
And, with a poking elbow attack, I could tell that I had bothered the local girl
It would appear that my smokey indulgence went into overdrive.
Had not the ceiling opened up and the walls curled.
I would have considered the world flat…not circular.

I have had daffodil dust moments before.
But when I discuss this in plain sight…
This foreplay bothersome for local girls
and
I am banished from sight.

Box of Vows

I discovered my vows in the bottom of a box

Scribbled, smooth as silk….yellow, red, purple…

the words,

of love and such.

With tannery hands,

I brushed away the

cobwebs.

I gently blew away the dust.

Endearment’s endeavors had been so young…way back when.

Impasse coupled with miracles…a constant friend.

Years of having worn my heart on my sleeve…lavished me in self proclaimed, misery.

It is only now, by virtue of, love’s vows…

I see the greatest gift of all.

‘You have taught me to take life less seriously.’

Shakespeare’s Sister

Hazel eyes on the Avon…in ravaged jeans.

She had just been so…sanguine

so masterly

so supple

gone…too soon.

In this land where William took Anne’s hand…

Swaying…

‘Have you got it? Do you get it?
If so how often
Which do you choose
A hard or soft option…

How much do you need?’

If only I could plead.

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Erin understood more than eighteen years could ever understand.

Of course, these were infant moments when I had no grand plan.

Skinhead rock atop of tie dye undertones.

Far from home, I had been willing to bathe in her ocean.

Waters once ashen or stark turned tenderly…vibrant.

Fingertip to skin…

a medley of liquors…

strokes…

soon assertive and grand.

Hearts and secret thoughts will fade away.

Hazel eyes on the Avon.

Black tea, a bed, a breakfast, an English kiss, on the Thames.