Reflections

I Know Not of Your Soul

I know not of your soul, but only the
beauty you possess;
And yet, in quiet dreams, I would take you with me,
should I go.
In the springtime calm, I would mount you
on my train of thought, should I think.
Under a full moon of unknown stars, I would
answer your love, should I possess love.
In moments of questions, my honesty would
overwhelm you, should the truth be honest.
The existence of your touch feeling its way
thru my soul would guide me to serenity,
should I possess feeling.
For unseen moments, I am grateful;
But, first, I must open my eyes.




Unknown

It was only a country walk,
Up along the mountain side,
To be alone and clear my mind;
I’ll be married in two days time.

The day was late as I closed my eyes,
Deeply dreaming with the timber pines,
And of my love, whom I love so.
I awoke finding a hand on my brow,
And a girl asking me not to go.

She had a fire, cooking fresh caught trout
Smuggled from the falls down below.
Her coffee, I saw, was incensed with feeling
That made her eyes sparkle and my heart beat
Faster than any place in the city.

We spent the day in warm arms,
Covered by aspen leaves
Fallen for the coming fall.
And in early evening we swam the falls
Feeling as free as we did, not asking why—
A blue star-lite blanket
And freedom from our eyes.

I knew I could never leave her
While looking into her eyes,
So, quietly I moved from her peaceful warmth;
The cold was colder than I’d ever known
As I finally found the path to the city,
And my love, whom I loved so.

And as I awoke, hungover, from last night’s party,
Seeming so long ago, I looked up the mountain side
Questioning how strange it seems,
I never knew the name
Of the lover in my dreams.




Years of the Free

She was born of the earth,
Not knowing the seasons;
When it grew warm before the winter
She changed her colors;
And all year ‘round she wore a cape
Of elegance.

Her outer skin grew hard
And told of how she had grown;
She was tall and straight, possessing
Something which man could never recreate;
For she was real and true to all
Who knew her.

And each year she grew a little
And married life again;
And though she slipped a ring on
When a new love said hello,
She was free,
And never knew of hate.

And her life will live on
Long after we have gone;
And her beauty will never diminish
Like that of a lady;
Nor her strength,
Like that of a man;
But one question will always be asked:
Why was she so gifted
To grow up free?




Five-Thirty

Five-thirty, full darkness Saturday,
Slipping slowly to dawn’s sunrise and you,
From habit I hear you about;
Now putting the radio’s buzzer to sleep,
And thinking about it yourself, still I do.

Rolling over to the vacant bedside,
Stretching my dreams, I feel you near,
As freshly brewed coffee finds my nose,
Your smile finds my eyes, my hand to yours.

Eyes are answered with smiles,
As you touch me, lying yourself down,
For me, for you, for love.

Now, it’s nearly seven, with two cold coffees,
Two warm bodies share a cigarette;
Yes, I’ll take you to work—
Driving as we drink our coffee... Good morning.




There Is No Way

There is no way
Tomorrow will bear us
Without the truth.
Should the truth hurt—
Tomorrow will pass.
I have no idea how long it will take.




The Way to Her Heart

The way to her heart
has been thru her head;
As tempered by her emotions,
Her sensitivity can envelop
a gentle, cautious approach.

As her body moves
by slow acceptance, show first
Your cautious honesty, sensitivity,
then your creative head.

Hesitate in your movements,
none too quick as to be impetuous,
For you’ll only bounce back from
her wall of control;

And never take for granted
that which you see as frosting—
But not offered.




I’ve Been There

He walked into the bar room
With a smile somewhat suspect;
His eyes were full of water,
But he swore he never cared.

And as we gathered ‘round
He paused and took a drink,
Then he straightened his tie—
hitched up his pants,
And said you were nowhere to be found.

Seems he’d come home last night late,
And his only company was a note;
Something ‘bout you loved him so,
But you couldn’t live with hate.

He spoke of his walk with an empty head,
And breakfast alone at the corner cafe—
Asked the barmaid if it was Sunday or Monday
And told her later he felt dead.

When he had finished—
And again paid for the bar—
I thought to myself, “I’ve been there”,
And knew just how he felt.

And wiping tears away,
And hitching up my pants,
I thought him rather lucky—
’Cause at least he had your note.




Dreams

While the pale light reflected off of the mirror—
I could see your smiling eyes...
the curve of your mouth
The room was quiet except for
the complaints from the cat
And the medley of soft guitars and drums

I touched you... you held me...
I heard drums behind my eyes
I felt pleasure in seeing you satisfied...
Again and again...
Energy from my mind touched you
Through my hands
And small frowns gave way to deep breathing

Time was moving... yet still... too many things were
happening without rehearsal—
Suddenly you wouldn't let go and a
Warm wave of emotion flowed
From me to you at the same time...
Last night we were one.