I close my eyesand see us inour youthful blissbetween thetempest of our teensand our children’s first breath. Friday dinners at our little kitchen tableabove the bridal store in city’s center yet home was anywhereI could gaze into your eyesand watch your lips formone of their thousand shapes. They spoke a language of their own.My heartstringsContinue reading “Worthy”
Tag Archives: Poetry
The Minstrel’s Lot
It’s my life’s work, To sit and sculpt the images of her form, To shape with phrases praises of my muse To sing her songs and tell her stories, To sketch her form in words that sum The jigsaw of her mysterious whole. And with deft fingers strum cupid’s harp And pull at heart stringsContinue reading “The Minstrel’s Lot”