In the moonlight
That claims us all the same
I want to touch you
So tender
Lonesome
I am a spoken dove
Two wings to fly so high
Golden wishes
Expired beside my written name
Tag: tender
Our Own (day 2745)
Like it was the day I whispered
Into your very brown eyes
I could not remain any more
Without your sweetest heart
That held a fire so tenderly
Rushing in a moment of
What made the world our own.
The Bane of Fullness (day 2470)
I don’t want to hold onto this enormous feeling.
A Skeptic once said the past isn’t present,
So let us believe that a fullness isn’t real
(A limit we reach where we can no longer give, share, believe),
Let this feeling take us on a tenderness stroll
Like sheer cotton shading giant pillows we lounge upon,
Meandering through ancient streets and wild forests
Where we stop at every third park bench we pass
To sit closely and pretend we’re still consciously speaking
In syllables that reason can understand and explain,
For to me your words speak in gestures only my ears
– And perhaps the dear sweet Cupid who so cleverly pinned us –
Can fully grasp at, mingled so heavily with vibrant lips
My eyes cannot escape being entranced by,
And breath mine hairs can feel so warmly upon
With your gentle yet firm fingers ever so delicately
Squeezing a new pattern into mine palm of eternity.
I want to hold onto you, the back of your neck with softest of curls
As our lips mean to share what we’ve intoned of a feeling,
Forgetting for brief moments our shooting star madness
And living a while longer by the bane of our senses.
Hashmark (day 2452)
A passage of my minds disguise
I float the little waves
And carry on in nature’s ease,
I dare not look too far
For far shall be my last rebirth.
But as sweet whispers carry over
Tender ruffles of my mind
I hold a little longer to
Pencils I’ve had perfectly sharp
That count with each hashmark
Dear boldness I’ve become.
Golden Iron (day 2148)
Whisper me once silence more
I have a golden iron
Wrack my brain into sweet depths
Let thee mine, forever.
Then why doth evening break again
With no leopards at my back?
I’ve given over each succulent
A tender touch shall remain
For my heart leaps with each raindrop
A flood, or desert storm.
Moon at Midnight – Part XXXXXV (day 2029)
Two weeks after Willow had been run
She was feeling good enough
To go back out and try the passage again
So, we packed up
And headed out in the same direction
This time we passed over the woodland
And made it to Amy & Frank’s
Within four days of riding
Very slowly
For it was still a little bit tender
For Willow to ride for too long at one time.
Amy, Frank and Clarinet were ecstatic to see us
They had a new baby boy named Jack
Who Lily of course fell in love with right away
So Lily and Clarinet played house
With the three of them
Taking extra special tender care
Of the little baby Jack.
Willow and I enjoyed the baby too
And I could see that she was thinking about
Having our own little Jack
But we didn’t talk about it
We were too distracted with conversation
Willow and Amy got along really good
I was happy to see that,
And Moon Cow, Frank and I
Mostly worked in his garden and shop
Helping him with some of his projects
We made poles and fixed some fences
Milked his goats and churned the butter
Fed the chickens and chopped some wood
Sharpened some axes and shooed his horses.
Every night we felt like a family
All sitting around anywhere we could
Eating what Amy and Willow had made
They were both interested in exchanging recipes
From each other’s minds
Willow always had so much to share with Amy
About herbs foraged from the forest
Willow learned so much from Amy
About things like flour and pastries
I could see her eyes expand
Watching some of the techniques
Amy did with her oven.
Fog Horn (day 1969)
Where were you?
Alone at last and one day you will see
That my attempts to make things pass differently
Will go un-answered, un-fooled,
Soundscapes passing by my tender touches
In an envelope neatly packed so.
A heavy rain left my sweet flowers
Like pillars of a ruin,
And tapping lightly culls my darkness –
A soft smile about my face.
Willow in the season of dying
Soothes a fog horn off my ragged coastline,
I whistle into the coming darkness:
Where do you lay your head tonight?
Hash Marks (day 1908)
In a passage of my minds disguise
I float little waves
And carry on in nature’s ease,
I don’t dare look too far.
But as sweet whispers carry over
Tender ruffles of my mind
I hold a little longer to
Pencils I’ve had perfectly sharp
That count with each hash mark
Dear boldness I’ve become.
Pure Intentions (day 729)
I’m a walking cause
A symptom without diagnosis
An affliction
An avoidable situation
I’ve got a heartbeat
Pure intentions
A rambling rose
With nobody to hold
I’ve got a tender touch
Late at night by campfire light
Life in burning eyes
With splinter clutches
I’m a justification
A resolution
Breaking the good/bad
Souring the miscomfort
I’ve got footsteps
Leading away from me
Large strides and
Slight pigeon toed prints
I’m a walking cause
A symptom without diagnosis
An affliction
An avoidable situation