Of all These, Hope

on the day she opened
her bridal gift
unleashing all the ills into the air
surrounding her
she let Hope stay inside;
she kept hope alive
for you and me.

that "thing with feathers"
a clipped bird
that could not fly free
trapped, for an eternity-
and men whined.
how could this be?

nothing is as bad as it seems
as long as we have our dreams
for comfort.
yes hope is a bird that longs to fly free
that dreams of an unending sky
that sees eternity.

i want ... i need

i want
to gaze into her eyes while
we are talking
and not freeze
in my inhibitions
which often tongue tie me.

to speak of my soul's desires
let my passions ignite
those smoldering fires
which melts away all resistance
in me.

i need
to lay entwined in her arms
so close
our hair mingles on the pillow
and we gaze out at the sunrise over the lake
its rose tips with rust highlights
our naked skin soft
with the leftover essence of last evening's love.

i want to write down ...

i want to write down
express profusely
how i feel about
her
but words like a mirage
are elusive
and refuse to be captured

love
it isn't enough somehow
it's too easy
a cliche
though that is certainly part of
how i'm feeling

i've been here before
i know the signs
i fall evermore
enraptured
and though it feels brand new
i know it isn't
and i haven't got anything
different to say.