Dusty Dreams

The vivid dreams

that were once my

realism

now lay stark

in the

threshold of time;

Collecting dust at foot

of attics door.

What You Are To Me

Vast inspiration, sometimes consternation.

Beautiful – words, indescribable.

A flawless diamond

glistening on a clear summer day.

Velvet warmth

in your soft but definitive voice,

a chorus of singing angels.

Strength and weakness, 

challenge that comforts and torments.

Love, intensity -

distance driven angst.

Bright sun drenching a valley stream

moving slowly, confidently.

The fragrant smell of fresh perfume accenting every part of you,

as fresh as sweet mountain air.

A snow storm in a small summer retreat town,

A child playing endlessly – profound.

A pleasant dream – daybreak chirping birds.

Delicate as a feather floating in the breeze.

Inspiration, da Vinci like yet real.

Happiness – solitude in thought, auditorium emotion.

What you are to me is

a field of wild flowers, swaying in the breeze

that makes my day.

Drakes

We strolled the beach

touching our unsaid thoughts.

Our lives

rolling into the sea

and

returning with the next wave.

Each other,

telling stories with our eyes,

joyous tears

and a whisper of love,

together once again

celebrating

for a moment in time.