I miss you, I miss the feel of your skin;
your cold hands as they seek the warmth of my neck.
I miss the smell of your breath, Pepsi, cigarettes, and love.
The chuckles of amusement at the tickle of chill fingers.
Holding on to each other until we are warm, and the day takes us away.

Today, you go about the business of static living, unforgiving.
You don't know me, I can't forget, you won't remember.
Roommates with history, lovers before doubt.
Is it you? Is it me? Who wins?
Head games require more effort

When night falls
and dark angels call.
Who will be there
to take that last fall?

Are you bound for hell
well you just can't tell.
Some would say
there's a different way.

Does anyone really understand?
The decisions you've made
may have gotten out of hand!
In the end you're your own man.

Living a dream
that you can't comprehend.
You've no one to turn to
in the end!

When night falls
and dark angels call.
Who will be there
to take that last fall?

Are you bound for hell
well you just can't tell.
Some would say
there's a different way.

Does anyone really understand?
The decisions you've made
may have gotten out of hand!
In the end you're your own man.

Living a dream
that you can't comprehend.
You've no one to turn to
in the end!

Sunshine beams that warm your soul

Awe inspiring trees that give you comfort

Fields of wheat that make you a dreamer

Bare feet on earths soil that keep you grounded

Feeling freedom and unchained while floating in water

Birds singing and flying fearlessly giving hope

Sometimes I write about my exes.
Often times about birds, water and boats too.
I've imagined a dead spider’s final thoughts
(still a little melancholy about that one).
And definitely a few verses about yesterdays.

Today though, while I lay on my back
in our yard, more reporting on dogs seemed in the fore.
Our two curious canines wanted to investigate while I lie there.

This poem went places that it shouldn’t have gone
in the beer tent listening to a jazz ensemble,
who came on after the dance band
and are suffering by comparison.
I’m trying to examine the difference between
flute solos and close harmonies,
between thrown together and tightly knit,
being here for themselves or the audience.
I’m with two of my grown-up daughters
and my wife is with the foster kids
watching Maleficent at the cinema.
I’m digging the songs my dad used to sing

She wrote to him that cold night,

the ink bled through.

And though the letter made its way
into the affable flame,
the fireplace held the charred
ashes of their lives long after,

as did the surface of her desk
and the cruel stains on her fingertips.

I feel
As if the fog has been lifted
And my mind
Is now open
To clarity
And to my purpose
My thoughts are crystal clear
And I am able to open up
Open out
To whatever is out there
For me
My eyes are wide open
They see so clearly
They see that my future is bright
And full of light
As I write these words
As I soar high in the sky
And fly
I am so happy
And so free
Free of all doubts
And fears
That burdened me
And held me hostage

Water never forgets,
each drop a fragment of what once was.
Rivers carved through stone recalling glaciers,
oceans echo the songs of long-gone whales.

Rain falls, heavy with stories,
whispering of mountains it nurtured,
and deserts it dared to cross.
It pools in lakes, holding reflections for centuries.

A single droplet clings to a leaf,
remembering the storm it survived,
the clouds it left behind,
and the roots it will soon embrace.

Dear younger self, with dreams in your gaze,
Embrace change, let your spirit blaze.
Life's a river, always in flow,
Welcome the currents, let your heart know.

Value bonds, hold them near,
In laughter and moments, find silent cheer.
Friends are anchors, through storms they stand,
Their love is treasure, the finest in hand.

Pursue passions, let your heart sing,
Follow your dreams, they give you wings.
Fear not failures, they’re part of the game,
Each setback a step, not a mark of your name.