A Poet's Haven

A journey of lustrums too few to count…I hear upon the gentle touch of strings on a violin…As I set motionless except the wetness upon my cheeks… A journey of lustrums too few to count the memories…A grey mist drifted through moments less joyfull…I am carried in the strum of a guitar through happier moments….…

You see I hear this voice, it calls out my name.When I answer, I sense a smile.It’s like seeing parts of a portrait.I can see the outline of her ear.I can see her earrings.She must like the ones that dangle.That’s all she ever wears, they draw attention to her neck.It’s almost as if she is…

I set and listened to the gentle rhythm flow from ivory keys and the strum of strings. As I thought of Summer rains, cloudless skies, and starry nights. And when my eyes found you. My head and my heart began to dream and share their view’s of you. Even argue over fate and kindred spirits,…

It wasn’t those eyes, the ones he looked into…That night at the train station or the lips he kissed…As he trounced off to a war he didn’t want to fight… He was one of the lucky ones who came home…Who found those eyes still waiting for him…Where they both said good bye… He was able…

Every now and then I come across her in my dreams…For a very long time I didn’t know her name…It became complicated as our paths continued to cross…I would be left with a gazillion thoughts to untwine…Some of our encounters came before the great flood…I do believe it was her eyes, her hair was often…

No sooner than my eyes closed.I found her, homing in on the last words from her lips,as she drifted off to sleep and whispered into the wind.Knowing that the very sound of every beat of her heart,is forever linked to mine.A gentle kiss upon her cheek, as she murmured “ you’re here”“shush my Darling, you…

I once read that we never clearly see faces in our dreams…Once or twice I have seen faces in my dreams…On occasion I have heard voices in my dreams…Every now and again I will hear a woman’s voice…Always the same voice telling me to wake up…And no it is not my Mothers voice…In all honesty,…

She stood by the window wrapped in a sheet…Awaiting the dawn’s serenade…She smiled as she felt his lips upon her cheek…Reliving the moments of entangled arms…And their dueling tongues…And the poetry he whispered in her ear…The sound of his voice as he recanted…Moving back and forth across the channel…First in French and then in English…As…

She strummed a rendition of “ Killing Me Softly “…As each string spoke to my scars…She seemed to know how each string…Shared a memory of her…Silence echoed between notes…A lifetime of love shared…Ending in only a few dozen full moons…We laughed and loved threw them all…A mere thirty sunrises between them…Enjoy each sunrise…Love every moment…As…

It has begun…She can delay it by minutes…Her pulse has already begun to rise…Her mine has begun the metamorphosis…The bones and joints in her feet and legs are transforming…The fingers and hands will be next…Her back will change as hair begins to grow everywhere…Lastly her face will take the shape she hates the most…She can…