Beautiful eyes, beautiful face, I’m shy to talk to you. You’re the eagle I must watch No matter what I do. You’re the beauty, wild and free, The mistress of my eyes, Rolling through exultant air, Alone in pristine skies. I would take you for my own...
Be my Valentine, for I Each day have thought of you. My whole life couldn’t manage what Your ready smile can do, Vanquishing my loneliness As though all light were new. Let me be your Valentine Even as you’re mine, Needing what I have to give That each...
Be gentle: What you’re holding is my heart. Remember in your honesty my pride. If you don’t want to see me, please don’t hide The truth, yet tell it with some art. Though you may not have asked for me to call, A single leap of hope must be allowed....
August starts to shade a bit towards shade, Upon the cusp of full tide and retreat. Gifts of grace accumulate through time Underneath the sweat of the sublime, Substance that no silence can defeat. Though evenings earlier begin to fade....
As my debt grows, so my love does, too. What you give I cannot half repay. Your love for me enflames my love for you. I can’t help being moody, often blue, Irritable, anxious, sad, and yet you stay. As my debt grows, so my love does, too. I know I’m lucky...
April is quite conscious of his beauty. Pleasure is as commonplace as song. Resonant and lithe, he sings along In harmony with what might well be wrong, Letting go all thoughts of gain or duty
Given angel’s wings, where might you fly? In what sweet heaven might you find your love? Unwilling to be bound, where might you move, Lost between the wonder and the why? If you were but a flame of pure desire, A light so lovely you could not be seen, Near mad...
Could there be angels waiting in the wings, How might we call upon their ecstasy? Rainbows are mere garnish on the days In which we are the glory and the light. So may we hear the songs our sunshine sings, The words which will the wonder of our ways; May we know how...
Each angel has a voice its own, Vocally distinct, Even as it longs for home, Lured to Being’s brink. Yet billions, billions sing as one, Nearer than they think.
On your engagement let the angels sing! Now let clouds of angels fill the air! You may think your pledge a mundane thing; One word of love and angels hover there! Unborn children wait upon your breath, Reaching past the hundredth generation, Even as you touch souls...
Perhaps an angel told you once of love, A spirit pure, not knowing fear or shame. Until that whispered word, perhaps, you came Less willing to the winds that some hearts move, After which you had for them a name.
Even angels feel the pangs of love. (Vicariously, of course – their love is pure.) Each finds a human love to serenade, Leaving its perfection in the shade, Yearning for the pain it must endure, Near ecstasy with what it knows not of....
Angels have no ID bracelets on them. No features glow with heavenly delight. Given that their wings are made of feeling, Each flying angel’s given to concealing Love’s plumage like a rainbow in the night. Shyness cloaks the halos that surround them....
Angels are quite ample cause to cry, Now, like silent movies, obsolete. God Itself now knoweth Its demise, Even as a plaything of the wise, Lost to all but those that work the street, A retiree not ready yet to die.
To be an angel, one need not have wings. In giving love there is an equal grace. Nor need one seek the aura in the face, As love unveils the beauty of all things.
It’s amazing how I feel when I’m around you, How my heart pounds when you come into a room. I look at you and think: My God! How lovely! And everything I am bursts into bloom. I feel as though you must, you must be mine, Not as a possession but a goal,...
Alyssa’s the angel I hold in my arms Like a spirit but partially sundered from self. Yet anchored in life by a love unrestrained, Self-serving by serving that self be sustained, She dances with grace on both sides of the gulf, An angel whose wisdom is one of her...
Alynna’s the angel I hold in my arms Like a spirit but partially sundered from self. Yet anchored in life by a love unrestrained, Near ecstasy singing in sunlight sustained, Not of earth or of heaven, she lives in the gulf Angels call Eden for its unravished...
After you’re gone How will I go to work? Who will I phone To talk through the silent evening After you’re gone? You’re part of my life, A piece of my tapestry. On what rock Will my castle rest After you’re gone? Time will turn But without...
