Words and Pictures

Words are all about pictures
Pictures inspire words
Sounds are strung together
And so a word is heard
Written they echo in the mind
Spoken they ring like spirits of the air
They conjure images behind
Our eyes
Remaining forever there
One plies
With words a spark
Another focuses on beauty
One attempts to precisely make a mark
The other projects with less certainty
Yet both flatter with their focus
Convey strong affection
Place love as their locus
Differing only in inflection
Love my poem
Love my picture
Draw it / write it
On my heart
This poem juxtaposes
Concepts for your inference
And arrogantly (perhaps) proposes
Between them little difference
As hands that fit together
Be content and warm

Parts of Me

My hands know every part of you, but not
Yet well enough. They love you as I do:
Completely and without a boundary,
Longing in your absence,
Warmed in your presence.
You are like their thermostat.
Of my heart as well,
Empty in your absence,
Overflowing in your presence,
You like my heart valve,
Like a detachable part of me
That goes away leaving me incomplete.
Warm touchable you who fill my heart
Or must go,
As I wait cold and empty
The seeming eternity
Until your return.
Oh, I’m okay.
But I’d rather have you near
Any day.

Why Yet

Why yet
Do I write
A poem or two
Each day for you
Why yet
My greatest desire
To see your face
Delighting
At any communication
Wishing
Only our connection
It can only be
One thing
Irrelevantly named
I feel
Why yet

Not Above

How would it be
You and me
A couple of tents
Thirty-eight degrees
Neither of us
I think
Above a cuddle
At the brink
Of freezing

In the morning
A smile
And scalding camp-stove coffee
You and me