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A mountain climber

soaring upward towards

the snow capped clouds.

Breaths short, clear

weaving in and out through

pines and birch

etching his way tediously,

slowly,

perfectly painting his way.

Flickers of sunlight,

birds flying freely

gliding beyond his reach

avoiding all man's habits.

Night befall and climber

sleeps beneath a living tree.

Wolves

cry matefully into the night, and

dew drops sprinkling his

sandy balding hair.

Again besieged by the top,

so clear

in the new day.

Finally climber ascends to the top

and without falter

finds his dream

top.........free and fresh

Love Litter

I left your sandals in the snow,

hoping winter and time would let things go.

Your eyes send messages...

icons of hope.

You words are discernable, but not very clear.

Love litter, scorching the edges of despair.

Seedling

I touched a seedling uncovered by time,

watched it grow in my damp palms.

I saw the suns affection nestle

up to its little buds

and

watched it bloom before my eyes.

It stood tall among its many relatives,

caressing its nurtured petals

laughing at its reflection on

a shimmering pond.

Early Morning Thoughts

I don’t want to wake up alone without you.

You are my only home.

What more can I tell you,

you are my heart and soul,

without you would take a monumental toll.

I don’t want to wake up without you.

You are my forever lasting love.

When I see you smile,

the clouds get bright white

and

make beautiful shapes like the Caribbean isles.

You are the only one

that begins my day since we first met.

You bring fire to my soul

and

burning love to my heart.

I don’t want to wake up alone without you,

as we take refuge together in our home

On Becoming Famous

Peddling endlessly on a treadmill…

…. you called it.

We search for style, glory and honor,

gain style, miss honor

and acclaim glory.

Some inhibit style, saturate glory and harbor honor.

I've attained style, lack glory

and feel honor,

metaphored life, grace and

rhymed my way to

individuality,

interpreted words wrongly

set on wet cement

from lack of style and meter

but have attained a level of

madness.

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.

Soft Stroke

Passion prompted by your sensuous subtle smile

peaking out of an ordinary window,

overlooking rocks filled with sea foam.

Careful touches become caressing hugs

that stimulates provocative thoughts.

Mixed oils on an artists pallet

become masterful works of fine art.

All in an ordinary day.

Look into a mirror

and see

the magic of your smile.

Run your fingers through my hair

and feel

the magic of your touch.

Romantic language accentuates

the softness of your smile.

Sounds float like rose pedals in an ordinary breeze,

in an ordinary day.