Author, Computer Scientist, Musician, and Photographer
Skin, even softer than rose petals,
Beneath my touch, a blush so maroon,
Each strand of hair like dandelions sway,
That summer’s breath trumpets through,
Eyes, deep meadows of bluebells,
Reflecting heavens, vast and true,
Lips, as tender as tulips in bloom,
Their kiss, a soft whisper, like morning dew.
She is holey like her jeans,
A temple for a body,
From her head down to her feet,
She is a denim deity,
She is holey like her jeans,
A serene angel in capris,
With wings that flutter unseen,
Her beauty is heavenly,
She is holey like her jeans,
From faded blues to cerulean,
A celestial dream to me,
It’s in her that I believe,
She is wholly complete,
Even her flaws are pretty,
My heart bursts at the seams,
When she wears holey jeans.
For whom do the weeping willows cry?
For whom do their tears likewise dry?
For whom do the hill crests stretch high,
For who do grapes grow on the vine?
For whom do they make the sweetest wine?
For whom do bees make honey in hives?
For whom do songbirds sing lullabies?
For whom do the stars twinkle and shine?
For whom do they streak across the sky?
For whom do the constellations guide?
For whom do the sun and the moon rise?
For whom do the planets all align?
For whom do the heavens deeply sigh?
For you, that’s who because you are mine.
A zephyr trumpets through the effervescent heavens,
Lifting a zeppelin above a whirlwind romance,
Beneath two vanilla doves perching on a branch,
The lovers hold hands, as they share in a laugh,
Their tender sweethearts delighting in the heartland,
Listening to the lovebird’s mellifluous ballad.
He gazes up at serene galaxies,
In an urban garden gazebo,
Where stars twinkle like bells in jubilee,
Vibrant quasars swirl through his kaleidoscope,
Cascaded nebulas flow resplendently,
On a night darker than a murder of crows,
Light and feathery clouds whisk toward the east,
Drawing curtains closed over the cosmic show.
When the flick is finished,
In the cinema of existence,
The stink of stale popcorn and dusty films,
She blinks through silver screen tears,
Seeing her life in a motion picture,
Hearing the silence of her critics,
Applauding the end credits,
She is one heck of an actress.
A yellow and blue moon-shaped bruise on the flesh of Eve,
Living on the fat of the land has made her skinny,
A serpent coils around the apple of her eye,
The tempting aroma is tangy and bittersweet,
A taste of wickedness and sin for all mankind,
It’s hard to swallow down, the belly of the feast.
A white sun dips in the sky, casting light on winter woods,
A red-tailed hawk soars over a river, its surface frozen,
I exhale, my breath a frosted meadow,
With evergreens tinseled by shadow and snow,
This cold is loneliness, it lingers on my skin,
A shiver trills down my spine, thinking our romance can end,
Each tender moment we’ve cherished, like kindling, extinguished,
Your love, the tinder, keeps me from freezing to death.
We will twinkle when we are in our twilight years,
Just imagine all the things we shall see and hear,
Wrapped in a celestial quilt I’ll hold you near,
And whisper in your ear, “You look dazzling, my dear.”
We will be as colorful as our sunset years,
We still keep all of the laughter and in good cheer,
When the darkest hours upon us there is not fear,
Even the reaper will cry for us twilit tears.
Two dragonflies blue, violet and grey,
Wreathed atop your final resting place,
Beneath the cottonwood’s gentle shade,
In that somber moment tears traced.
Two dragonflies they came into sight,
Glistening like sapphires in the soft, golden light,
Their wings hummed a requiem, a mournful refrain,
A song in your quietus, to ease all the pain.
These dragonflies, messengers from above,
Emissaries of your undying love,
They whispered in the wind, as if to say,
You’re free from your burdens, it’s time to fly away.
In the silence of that moment, we felt your goodbye,
Two dragonflies, soaring high in the sky,
A reminder of your presence, forever in our hearts,
In the dance of dragonflies, your spirits depart.
