Will the Magic be Gone?

They moved together restlessly
She with hesitation
He with impatience
She knew things he did not
He understood things she never would
Exploring, guiding, testing, discovering, tensing, releasing, breathing
He reached, touched
Her body smiled
He understood the where and when, cause and effect
Like a scientist mixing vital chemicals creating a reaction
She was carried on a wave
Despite herself
Despite what she knew, how it would end
He moved in ferocious tempo
Moved to unveil secrets
She stopped with
“Will the magic be gone?”
Hesitation, empty platitudes.
“When you see me, the magic will go “
He created a new wave
She let herself be distracted
Closed her eyes.
Let go.
As he looked, she dissolved into warm light.
She was gone.
He was grasping at shadows and light
She could see, not feel
He could touch but not see
Too far apart
Dimensions to cross
She knew this world of illusion
He understood transience of flesh
They moved slowly
To find a way either back or somewhere else
She with patience
He with disbelief
Exploring, reaching, holding, tasting, hoping, being.

Richer With You


your arms wrap around me like a cozy sweater
your warmth seeps into my cold bones
let the wind whip all around us
a dream is withstanding this storm

my dreams were not big enough
my scope not nearly as wide as could be
so many unexpected delights
there’s so much more we’ve found

exploring, finding comfort
expressing, needing kindness
touching, feeding the fires within

thinking, sharing ideas
tasting, traveling with senses
escaping, shutting out the world instead of time eroding the magic
rather than routine wearing away at the shine
the years that pass just seem too fast
it gets better and richer with you every time

On the sultry summer night

Walking felt like gliding
Wind sweeping slowly through my hair
Carrying the heady scent of roses

Only a sliver of moon shone
Lighting the way
On the long forgotten path

Hedgerows hid the night fairies
Stars held lovers’ secrets
I only had to walk to you to make it all true

We’d laugh at the stories
Sing to the sweet night music
Dance to the wind

I must be getting close
My heart is gaining a staccato beat
While my breath is just out of reach

Will it always be like this
My thoughts scattered to other planes
When I think of you

There is the glow of home
Just ahead and I am so full
With warm thoughts on this summer night



Studying the curve of her face, following each lock of hair as it brushed her shoulder, he sat quietly and listened.

Learning the patterns of crinkles his eyes made as he smiled, glancing at his strong hand as it rested on the table, she savored a captive audience.

They were made for each other, but didn’t seem to know it. Without instructions, they were a bit lost. With all that’s properly acceptable in the world requiring manuals, people were forgetting how to act upon instinct.

Scent. Flavor. Touch.

The eyes can only behold a modicum of information. What these people need is a firm push out of their heads.

As if shaken from a daydream, she finished her story and smiled. He returned her smile and took her hand. They sat quietly, listening to their hearts.

Tell Me Our Story


It’s been too long since I’ve asked anyone to tell me a story
Will it always be thus?
Every word you utter, I blindly see as an answer
Each time you glance my way, I feel all is well in my world
My breath stays caught in my throat
I await a sign you’re paying attention
My hands clench to keep from wringing with anticipation
You speak and I hear water rushing to smooth rough stones
You smile and I swear I could die of joy in that moment

How will you ever know how close I was to my end
Are there any combinations of words I could make
To make you see the cubist portrait of my psyche
And how I have turned cozy impressionist

Tell me anything you want
I will listen to stories, stats, swearing
Anything but stillness
Tell me truths or lies or wishes
I just want to hear your voice
As you wear me down and polish me
My own ideas pushed aside awhile can’t hurt
That’s when the big waves come
And tell their own endings to our story