The Fiddler's Midnight Sonata

Tell me you miss me,
Make me believe it,
that's the only way --
It will ever be true.

Silence is broken.

Into the moonlight,
cuts the bow,
poised and pulled
across the strings.

He plays her
a fiddle, master
technique, weaving
her blindness,
into his own vision.

But she catches glints,
glimpses, in the glow
of the night, even
the darkness
cannot hold out.

But she twirls
breathlessly baited,
anticipated, into his
every move, plotted,
planned, perfected.

The difference is
she already knows,
his dance, his song
what waits in the dark
but she chooses it
and chooses not
to reveal herself.

Dream Drifters

Close your eyes...

Meet me in that place, our place,
where no one else can go,
by the blue blue ocean,
that stretches out for days,
upon the white of the sand
we will lay, sun soaking.

We drift like clouds between
worlds of words, places
in our minds, we share
with a glance, moving
deeper in with every
touch, our place.

I whisper against your lips,
meet me when the sun sets,
upon the seas of dark,
let's write a life together,
one that only we could dream.

Down the Road

Now I'm down the road again
Another hundred fifty miles
And every single star in the night
Is catching fire
And tracing ways back to you
Maybe I can follow them some time soon
Maybe I can find your arms again
Where the sea and fire cross paths
And challenge the heavens
With their deafening cries into the sky


Until then....


I hope I can catch you sleeping
Where maybe we can meet in dreams

I'll be there

Waiting for the chance to see you, Love

Call to Arms

I look across the mirror at you -
a reflection’s reflection, framed.
I offer you the world, upon a word,
wrapped in brown paper, our world –
The one place we make sense,
where we understand each other
Completely.

Step from the mirror, take my hand,
know your place, vastly penned empire
of words beyond measure like brushes
Upon canvas, stars upon night,
sand upon shore.

This is our nature; blow off your dust,
as the muse’s lips brush delicately
Over the lobe of your ear, commanding
Your creativity into action
like a mare in heat, waiting
to be taken, explosively.

Helen of Troy

It was the golden age,
A time when all eyes
looked upon you
looked upon me.

The masses were filled with envy -
but we saw only each other,
our faces framed in pictures,
our stances cast in stone.

How they all longed to be us,
to be epic like we were.

A romance to span time,
and yet -
you let me go once,
let me slip away,
despite all your words,
despite all the love,
You didn't cross that gap.

You went silent,
dead in the night,
and I was whirled
into another's arms.

Epic love lies in ruins,
ancient ruins,
buried in time,
but now you reach for me,
reaching into the heavens
trying to pluck me like a star
from the sky.

But the eyes of the masses,
how they linger,
how they caress,
all searching for their chance,
their own way to be written in,
a way to touch that love
that shines from the depth of my eyes.

Shores of Self-Analogies

I feel like the shore
With the tide having gone out
Leaving all of my bits
Exposed, glared upon.
It is only I
That realizes too late
No matter how I fought
The tide
It is meant to be
Pulled away.

Thus I discover myself
How all that I am
Adds up to be me.

I can only be myself
But that self can change
Altered by the currents,
Rearranged beneath the tides,
Fractures and fragments
Picked up and carried away
Or deposited unseen
Til the tides reveal me again.

Elemental

I need not the conventions of man,
For I find myself, my truest self,
In the feel of soil beneath my feet,
Between my fingers, balled tight
Inside my fist.

I find comfort in the resonance
Of wave after wave, beating
Upon the break on shore and tide,
Surfing towards the land upon
Itself doubled over and collapsing.

I gain renewal and strength
In the loving caresses of the wind,
Rapturing me with its love,
Building my confidence
With its whispers,
Shaking me awake and alive
With its violence.

I am a daughter of the elements
Earth and Sea and Sky.