The first hour

And leaning in a touch of hands

While looking at the picture snaps

And time so very still it stands

Not wanting moments to elapse

We stole an hour at no one’s cost

As from the mundane we escaped

My cares were sixty minutes lost

As in your voice my mind was draped

Let’s meet again as worlds collide

And I can be alone with you

Tectonic plates our hands that slide

We crack the earth creating new

In shifting you have pulled me near

Those minutes gone so precious dear

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Tied Up In Nots

Sitting in the park in the dark not holding hands

Kissing you so sweet so complete not saying no

Talking on your bed so much said not making love

Holding in the night really tight not letting go

Falling into love hand in glove not knowing how

Evening we first met can’t forget knot ties us now

The Art

When beauty walked into the room I drew
My breath and wondered had he asked for me
As if my language I forgot I knew
I stood before him struck so silently
An artist with my canvasses of lust
So huge in public gallery not hung
But beauty isn’t something art should trust
For surface isn’t where our work is done
Undress the beauty show what lies beneath
And let me draw your breath into my soul
The canvas of your heart has sparked belief
A brush of lips and I have lost control
I stripped my love and now I have to find
The art to capture beauty in the mind

Words

I stumbled over words and grazed my heart
I thought I saw the truth within a rhyme
But writers can’t trusted for their art
Is just to sweeten cheap and hackneyed line
Comparison to summer’s day is trite
And music often feeds the love we lost
I think that love requires a second sight
And rides that fall are rarely worth the cost
Remember love’s a verb a doing word
It’s not a state that we recover from
A writer’s actions should seen not heard
And love is not three minutes in a song
Unbreak my heart for it is carved in wood
If words are all you have then you’re no good

Left

I saw a man the other day he glanced and left a smile
My life it didn’t change but deep inside I felt his look
He sat with friends I sat with mine and time away was whiled
And when he left I felt that he had read me like a book
My heart it raged and wondered how he could just walk away
My mind it reasoned how we couldn’t start a thing right there
But after leaving he looked back the words he didn’t say
A fluent declaration was left hanging in the air
So when we meet again I’ll ask him if we’ve met before
An opening, a start, a chance for us to somehow build
I hope he’s clever, kind and good and ever so much more
I have a dream and wonder if it now could be fulfilled
We’ll talk and hopefully that’s where  our  journey will begin
And this time when our friends have gone I will be left him

And who

And who do you belong to mister man who crossed his legs
Your shoulders are so broad or is your waist just very slight
And I have not yet seen your face and so my mind it begs
Is he as handsome as imagination wild would like
And who am I to look at you as you are working hard?
Perhaps I should rein in my thoughts and focus on my lunch
If only I was fearless I would hand to you my card
But I am just a coward when it comes down to the crunch
And who would write a poem and not simply say hello?
A fool an old romantic or a man who’s rather shy
Imagine you’re well spoken though I fear I’ll never know
I know about the loved and lost but still I will not try
And who will read this poem almost no one and not you
And if you did I wonder what on earth that you might do