Love Me Twice

if you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion -Dali Lama
if you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion
-Dali Lama

If you only love me now and again

Love me today

Love me tomorrow.

I you only think of me on occasion

Think of me when you need me

Think of me on the days that you have borrowed

Hear me

in the winds that caress your cheek

Hear  me

upon the days when there are no words to speak.

When you need me, from time to time

Need me as the days grow shorter

Need me in between life’s fine lines.

When you love me

Just love me twice

Love me today

and

Love me as the skies begin to gray.

In between today and tomorrow...there are big bites of love!  Relish the moment
In between today and tomorrow…there are big bites of love! Relish the moment

Love Me Twice

if you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion -Dali Lama
if you want others to be happy, practice compassion. If you want to be happy, practice compassion
-Dali Lama

If you only love me now and again

Love me today

Love me tomorrow.

I you only think of me on occasion

Think of me when you need me

Think of me on the days that you have borrowed

Hear me

in the winds that caress your cheek

Hear  me

upon the days when there are no words to speak.

When you need me, from time to time

Need me as the days grow shorter

Need me in between life’s fine lines.

When you love me

Just love me twice

Love me today

and

Love me as the skies begin to gray.

In between today and tomorrow...there are big bites of love!  Relish the moment
In between today and tomorrow…there are big bites of love! Relish the moment

As Time Grows Old

I have wept for some doors that have been shut.

For the remembrance of circling crows, the slightly ajar iron gates that house the long ago, dead.

For the remembrance of four legged siblings…true to themselves and unabashed. I relive their memory…everyday.

Oh, the wonder years, living among loose chickens and lazy llamas.

The dead end dirty and dusky roads that had lay before me.

Those lanes with promise of green, glistering, fields.

I have wept for the Shakers, the dance, the waves of neighbors passing, as time grows old.

Growing Old in the Fold

threshold of the skyApril showers, how repentant.  As if I eluded February…to stay in such a bogus fight.

How dare my carriage be discovered so lusterless with such spite.

Gregarious women warriors did not sit pantry-side…deliberating yeast for might.

No fireside banter…wronged versus right.

No paragon in which to huddle.

For the many, the cosmopolitan, visibility a squeamish black hole.

Their consumption’s a salty wine from abiding the fold.

Who will douse the sweat from my brow…as I, grow old?