~ Sarah Bernhardt once said: “Your words are my food, your breath my wine…”, to which I’ve wondered:
She is seated at the table.
The wine is poured.
The dinner is served
and is getting cold.
Is she giving the menu
another view?

I struggle

to be with you.

It’s intense

to stand near you.

It’s overwhelming

to speak with you.

I am overcome

because I see you.

More than what the mirror

shows back to you.

More than what friends

and family tell you.

The light in your eyes.

The joy in your smile.

The radiance of your face.

Your witty, wise, wonderful words.

Your deep, soulful spirit.

Your kindness.

The way your hair blows in the breeze

as you skim across the lake.

The way your body strongly yet gently

moves, leaving men in your wake.

The way you are open to all good,

and the way you give good to all.

I shake my head in amazement,

awe,

and joy,

and am overcome with happiness

that I am part of your world;

part of a world which has you in it,

part of an experience that comes

when I see you.

I wonder if this is how God

sees all of us?

Any woman who/
spells “Shakespeare” correctly is/
worth Achtung, Baby!

If you want something/
fantastic, you have to stop/
giving up so fast.

Even if your mom/
doesn’t like me any more,/
I’d still like carmel.

You still
kill
me
every time
I
surf by,
and sigh,
and wish I
was still
seeing your face
at the base
of Rainier’s hill.

You are now the muse,/
for whom I’ve written the most,/
and heard from the least.

If you hadn’t forgotten your phone
you would have received these haiku poems.
But I doubt your daughter wants to see
what I write to you, and you write to me.

Can I change my mind/
and say “Never Mind” to my/
former “Never Mind”?

Ending suddenly/
and completely means her child/
didn’t much like me.