Tag Archives: love

It is night. A …

It is night. A few stars shine above us. Solitary. Insignificant. 
 
Our eyes are locked in embrace. Us. Now. 
 
The world moves, twists, turns around us. We are ourselves, one, the center of our own universe.
 
This is our moment.
 
And yet, it is only a moment.
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Another of these love poems that I can’t come up with a title for.

From the archives:

Staring into those eyes
Immersed in their depths
underneath the stars that shone so bright
Only for her.

Caressing her hair
Like the wind
That seemed to stir
Only for her

Like the gentle lapping of the waves
on her feet
As the moon shone

A figure
by the shore
under the moon and the stars
Lonely. Lost.

The Song

And he sang to her through the night,

Of lands wondrous, across the blue seas,

Of the heavens above, studded with stars,

Of the soft breeze rustling through her hair,

Of an angel’s lips on his cheek,

Of times gone by, both melancholy and gay,

Of lonely times yet to come,

And of lives lived and maybe yet to be lived.

And so the song ended,

As a soft golden dawn broke.

A smile came upon her lips,

and a tear rolled down his cheek.

Dream

Talking of dreams
Worlds afar
She loved them.
And him.

Always in her dreams
Did he come
And always she fell
Into a deep dark abyss.
No hand to catch her,
when all she wanted
was a touch
was a smile
was a word
to help her
feel alive

none came.

And in her dream
the one she fell in
Out of the dark
came a rider
On a steed so brilliant it shone
With the promise of freedom,
of a land afar
and times much better
He held out a hand.

And yet.
She faltered.

Alone

A wooden bench, old but still sturdy, on a hill.

A hill, with vast expanses of green, and a view.

A view of a lake, calm in the winter morning, a stray ripple disturbing its surface.

A ripple, fleeting yet sure, mirroring first light.

First light, peeking through the clouds, onto a dewdrop.

A dewdrop, glittering now, on  a blade of grass

A blade that shuddered in the slight breeze.

The breeze which whisked her hair from in front of her blue eyes

Blue eyes, deeper than the lake which she looked down upon,

As she sat on the wooden bench, old but still sturdy.

Alone.

You.

You know when your heart does that weird thing where it jumps up into your neck and kind of sits there, refusing to go down again?
And suddenly your lungs seem to be in a tearing hurry to abandon your bodily cavities?
And the muscles in your face choose that exact moment to start rearanging themselves turning your smile into a half ass lopsided grin?

Well this happens every time I talk to you.
Damn.