Every minute that I wait for you
I will be longing for your arms
for the solace of your comfort
for the tenderness of your lips
While I am driving home
I will be wishing to have arrived.
You may not believe it’s true
but I always long to be with you.
Don’t be a rose,
be a carnation.
Roses have thorns and
are wilting within a day.
Carnations have character
and they stick around for weeks.
There’s no pomp about carnations
they’re happily frilly and fun.
Rose are high maintenance
and will make you bleed.
After you’ve been gone and my heart’s been sore
I’m delighted to listen to the music of your snore.
In throes of passion
he never screams her name
and she wonders whether
he is ravishing secret loves
in his mind.
She is light.
She glows with gentle radiance
that touches everyone she meets with her warmth.
She is peace.
In her calm presence you are comforted
simply by being near her serene heart.
She is whole.
She does not need anything from anyone,
for she has found the font of her strength within herself.
She is love.
You’re dizzy.
Can’t find the armhole on your blouse.
Falling.
You come to yourself slowly,
worn out,
laughing.
Minor cardiac episode?
Heart attack
or
Love?
Just in time
One brief interlude
Honest and true
Necessary connections
Before departure
Intertwined arms
Release the endorphins and
Dopamine that make love.
As snow creeps down the mountain
I thread through the maze and take to the skies.
I’m only leaving you for a few days,
but my sighs reflect how bereft it is
to be on my own, far from the one who
makes my heart beat.
Far from you.
Shawn L. Bird 