Were we still together
Going off to bed
I might lean over
And kiss your sleepy head
Or tenderly caress
Your soft bright cheek
And ease your stress
With gentle words that I speak.
We’re now miles apart,
Yet I still long to say
Sweet words and kind thoughts
To help close your day.
My feelings have grown since I went.
Why should a night away be different?
It will be strange to see,
at day’s end,
rhymes and lines of so much creativity
honestly emoting again.
To know of the fantasies
that were, throughout the day,
laid down in visions and dreams
because a romantic had something to say.
To read of the beliefs
he allowed himself to feel,
but at the end see the griefs
he could no longer conceal.
And then to learn, as day faded to night,
it was mused deception. Out goes his light.
One should never be
in that hopeless romantic hypocrisy.
For, if there is no hope in store,
then what is romance even for?
Those who are hopeless in romance
are folks who won’t even try to dance.
They’ll just lean back ‘gainst the wall
and watch everyone else have a ball.
But, as for me and my romantic heart,
I’m a hopeFUL romantic. That’s where I start.
I believe that something incredible can be.
I’m hopeful that’s where love will take me.
Being a romantic means believe! Take the chance!
Have hope FOR that life-altering, romantic dance.
You ask what it seems
I have in my dreams,
if we would discuss
you, me, and us.
I dream of being able to,
in all ways, impress you
and full-on woo you
and with joy and laughter pursue you.
But if you say “no”,
and give into fear,
I’ll awaken real slow,
or slip into a nightmare.
For living out full-blown, wondrous dreams
is often much harder than it seems.
I should write you more.
You yearn for
Words of poetry,
Heartfelt, from me.
I hesitate to begin,
Knowing how words spin.
And I guess I fear
To examine us too near.
Like looking too close
At a shimmering spider’s web, moist
With early morning’s dew.
The new us holds such fragile jewels.
I withhold and hold both words and breath, lest
I ruin the jeweled beauty of our spider’s nest.
Three cute blondes in a row.
I emailed them all to let them know
I found them interesting and attractive.
I think they’d like that I’m funny and active.
The other two emailed me right back.
In a hurry, they gave me no slack
but said they’d quickly like to meet:
I should pick the place and the street.
But one haven’t responded yet,
and she’s the one I think I’d most get.
I’m funny and kind, and like to have fun.
I think we’d have a blast in the sun.
So now to make my trio ‘fini’,
I hope she’ll soon write me.
I sent you
a late-night haiku,
and, this morning,
what did you do?
Walked to your desk.
That’s really best:
Stay calm and inert.
Don’t try to flirt.
When starting out,
leave room for doubt
instead of imagining
some grand beginning.
Be practical! It’s only then
you’ll avoid disapointment again.
I’m honored you open your gates to me
occasionally.
And if I fervently ask it,
you lower your heart’s basket
by nightfall
that I may scale your wall
again
and win.
She said:
“You are on a roll!”
To which I responded
(in a tone rather droll):
“I’d rather be on you.
or you on me.
Like peanut butter with jam.
Like fresh bread and honey.
Like warm milk and white bread
fresh from the oven
having you spread
on me is just good lovin’!”
When I’ve lived so long gluten-free,
being on a roll sounds mighty tasty.