Once you are away From your childhood home Many years past One still dreams Of flying away from it Telling you it's time To move on
Long gone down river From sacred moments Of coming out To the world One still dreams Of a sleeping lover Tip toe past her Not to awaken love If she'd rather slumber
Moving through the world Of faces lit bright red At night by dining tables Revelry and mist mingle In the air Faces become familiar Still imposed on new.. Old loves flicker Features compose comfort
We cannot move away Neither day or sleep The divine touch A muse, a fire A demi-god Living humbly in suburbia Capture our inner eyes So that we may dream well Forever
A source of great strength A true friend who never betrays The sleep that nourishes wisdom More powerful than proving a point It is golden A sanctuary for the soul or An ultimate weapon of power
Whether embraced or imposed May your silence be filled with bird song and laughter By this, if a weapon, may it lose its power.
Salty fingers sift tentatively Crushed homes of crustaceans and invertebrates - bones Glitter flickers in morning sun tricking me Finally, a complete curl Nestles in the cusp Of my palm, cold water wrinkles.
So too, are you. A prize worth waiting for Admired amidst the mire of days and loves lost.
So too, nestled In the cracks and lines Of memories that ignite The heart's flame On cold midwinter night
How wholesome, it was said We did meet by river bed Rock pools swirling Dreaming of past lives at sea.
Our shared love of its creatures A saltwater one, like me. Stories of islands, voyages, cabin mates amd treasures found in giant clam shells.
Obsessions with tropical rainforests laden with a kaleidescope of butterflies.
Photographs in our minds of oceans, still as a pool with only the splash of flying fish disturbing the miniscus of brightly lit surface at sunset.
Within weeks, the cracks show
The lives of loves lost at sea a favourite sea shanty
Mine like sleeping volcanoes dotting the edges of tectonic plates all over the Pacific. Yet, their mere breath a flourishing of life, feeding schools of every species ocean wide.
The great diversity of my mind.
I did not lose my skin nor dignity, though sailing too close to the wind.
To one solo creature I hold dear, the ocean many leagues deep knows how far apart love and envy are.
In the North On this day A million Painted Ladies Drifted on highways Of warm s'easterlies
Descended upon wild ancient Lands remembered To cocoon, feast and rise once again.
Artistic impressions of papillons Adorn my door, socks, scarf My eyes have never gazed upon Such species near or far.
Do they dwindle and fade, Will glossy scales fall? Inevitably, yes In a day.
How perfect that nature's most subtle beauty Would feast on loathesome thistle, so thoroughly To cause a whole crop to fail.
As I nestle in seasons of woven tales from near and far Aran Islands to Chile I, too, weave a cocoon Each to each stitch laid bare, thoughts of places I've never seen Near and far - Some I'd never dare
For slowly, I too, will lose the gloss of youth. Not before I, and many more Ravenously erode the fields of prickly weed
Count the stars of heaven 