Daffodils surround/
a pond, reminding me of/
of someone I’m fond.

May 4, 2011, 8:23 AM

She
who floats,
drifts,
glides,
pulses with waves
on the vast sea,
struggling alone,
insists on
friendship,
yet yearns for
penetrating
gazes and
soft
caress;
for deep
knowing,
for caring
fingertips,
for warmth
of being pulled,
rescued from
eternity’s depths,
held from loneliness.

He
stands in the foam,
wades into the waves,
dives deep,
out, through the surf,
to her side.

Strong, sure
strokes,
practiced for years,
never fully used,
wishing he could
extend
in full measure,
his caress,
his feelings,
his thoughts,
his soul.

He saved
friends before,
but not like this.
Not with all
the passion,
tenderness,
poetry,
soft caress
his heart has to offer.

He doesn’t want
to just pull her to shore
and wait for
someone else
to revive her.

But if that’s all
she wants, friends …

Or maybe it’s just
semantics.
—–
Resuce Addendum (9:32 a.m.)

As they,
two,
lay on the beach
together,
entwined,
he applied
the aid learned,
the touch
and caress
she yearned
for.

Could she revive
and realize
that time
and patience
and proper
application
was all
she really wanted
or desired?

No other aid
was needed.

Under sunsetted,/
silhouetted/
willows,/
purple martins/
dance/
tandem tangoes./
They ask/
who will join me/
romantically/
on the shore,/
to gain more/
light/
and insight/
as the day/
fades/to tender night./

Facing water, west,/
teaches you best.

At Solitude/
is where she creates,/
rejoices,/
finds satisfaction,/
is praised/
and known./

In solitude/
is how she lays,/
sleeps,/
weeps,/
stays alone./

She could fone.

How big is/
your heart’s hole?/

Can it b filled,/
like a river,/
with floods of words,/
levee breaking,/
that move U?/

Do food,/
wine dull the ache?/
Or only empathy?

Waves roll in./
Each offers a new chance:
Fun,
passion.
friendship,
romance,
creative fire,
desire.
Lunge
in.
U dont know which 1
U’ll hit.
Does it matter?
Plunge!

She was attentive/
to me through technology/
that I could not see.

To take up the slack,
she invited me for dinner
when I get back,
to shoo out Winter.

And to quietly sit
around her fire pit
and gaze at the stars
and find Venus and Mars
as she makes me
a delish
dish
to remind me
of what I missed.

“I shall pity the Pirate” /
she said with a smile, /
but it was too late,/
for all the while,/
it was her pretty/
that deserved the pity.