Love was when I loved you
One true time I hold to

In my life, we'll always go on
Near far, wherever you are

I believe that the heart goes on
Once more you open the door
And you're here in my heart
And my heart will go on

You're here, there's nothing I fear
And I know my heart will go on
We'll stay forever this way
You are safe in my heart
My heart will go on

Songwriters: James Horner / Will Jennings




There's a love that's divine
and it's yours and it's mine like the sun
And at the end of the day
we should give thanks and pray
to the one, to the one

written by Van Morrison
from the song
Have I Told You Lately That I Love You

peering out the kitchen window

you are on your knees working

afore the roses are a border
of smaller flowers, you know their names
intimate knowledge of their needs

 arranged, perennial, annual, color

each a foot soldier to the rose they serve

hands that care for thee and me
as i so often have said peering into
her every day as she moves between us all
from the dinner table to the birdfeeders
hands that have woven all that surrounds her
blending us all into the joy of her existence 
while i see only the beauty in color and form

i am not so devoid of this picture

as not to recognize

the loving strokes of Monet therein

i have been given a moment with a masterpiece

that only i will ever have

one that will forever grace

the gallery in my heart, where are your portraits

where i go when life takes you momentarily away

and i am missing you
hands that care for thee and me

1/4/19

i am finished with this one

close the computer

walk to the printer

saunter into her craft room

lower me into my chair

she drops her project

looks up, is it finished she says

yes, i reply

i then begin reading to her

still a perfectionist as long ago

when i used to read to her poetry

on a bench in a park

i do not allow myself to watch her

full concentration on delivery
i am Romeo delivering to my Juliet
i have to have full command of bardolatry

i finish and look up

she rises up and takes the poem

sits on the arm of the chair

i wait with the patience of Job

it is beautiful she says

repeats a few favorite lines

pulls me to her lips

some men long for recognition

for their labors

i understand this

but for me everything is within her

that she honors and loves my labors

is what gives meaning to my life

what the world thinks, the world thinks

what she thinks is my world

4/1/19

her favorite rose is lavender

it was my mother's favorite color

with each rose that i send her

i am reminded of my mother's advice

find a woman with God dearest in her heart

be grateful if she comes to love you

sit at His feet therein and blessings be yours

at the table on some occasions

she sets single roses

one red, one pink

the red one is her undying love for me

the pink one is her gratitude to God

for the love we have found in each other

and when i look thru those two

i realize i have in her the blue rose

that which is unattainable

is the love i have obtained

that which fails the grasp of many

is in love with me

there is no greater treasure
than knowing in our morning coffee
as i lower myself next to her
brush aside her hair
when her eyes open, that Duchenne smile
becomes our first kiss of the day
yes mother, blessings are mine
as every morning i am reminded
in my blue rose

2/5/19

once and only once

life threw us one of the curves

the diagnosis was guarded

my life with her moved into panic

it was with the passing Summer Solstice
we were well into it, soon in Provence

our room was to be kept in lavender roses

fields of lavender stretched seemingly

long into the forever

we were stopped upon a ridge

having a lunch prepared by the hotel

it was then i truly took in her face

eyes lost wildly in the lavender fields below

that Duchenne smile 

happiness swirling in every atom of her existence

the Summer sun bearing down in a gentleness

i was blessed for a moment

but given only a moment

of what heaven holds in wait for me

we came home from France

the miracle we wanted had been granted

i shall always be grateful for that miracle

and the glimpse into the heaven of her

in the lavender fields of Provence

2/12/19

our Spring was a whirlwind of newness

learning our emotions

exploring the worlds we were

that had left their long-held orbits

as we began a dance among the stars
in each other's arms spinning thru galaxies
never losing the gravity in each other's eyes

we then burst into the fullness of Summer

idle days as companions upon a trail

each step brought us deeper into fruition

a fullness of an accrued life

we had reaped the orchards offerings

swung the scythe in union

as fields of wants and needs were harvested

now we sit on a bench

as everything begins to come to rest

it is our Autumn

holding your hand the age spots

are now a part of what was pure alabaster
still the precious cup
my cheek holds in reverence

the skin has folded a bit

here and there
condensing years of accruing love
pouring inward to an ever-growing heart

time has been good to us

a love that has grown deeper

its roots match the canopy

joy hangs from the branches

rooted in the happiness below

we are the strong oak

a love was borne in a single acorn

what we have is the most precious gift

our singularity in the devotion we have

for each other

what we share deepest in those roots

is knowing these seasons are but

life in the garden to come
there are still times as our lips meet
i have those butterflies
still times as i peer thru those roses
you red and i am pink
i skip a breath
the heart races an extra beat
i breathe in the potpourri she has become 
i still read to her poetry on that bench
i have never wavered in my intent
each poem has but one purpose
to win her heart, again and again
the never-ending story of my love for her

2/1/19

the squirrels' scamper across the yard

it is Winter and the feeding is sporadic

above the ground, the birds light in, fly out

it is the scene set by a wise woman

who sees to it

each is cared for in their natural feeders

there is no thieving in this woman's' yard

no disputes over stations

she sees to it they are fed in place

most natural to their nature, each beast knows beauty
i could easily believe she was behind the design
the fauna and flora of any National Park

as i sip my coffee and watch

the aroma coming out of the kitchen
fills my expectations of yet another slice of heaven

in her world, none are denied her attention

we all are happy in our stations

the squirrels have their nuts 
naturally, from the ground they fall upon

the birds their varied seeds
a bit higher, think sunflowers
it is only a desperate squirrel that robs birds
she has the most adorable logic

and there i am, waiting on my plate
a cornucopia of delights, her handmade heaven
we all know that soon Spring will come

the white blanket will have disappeared
become a forgotten ghost

the garden will burst alive
colors will adorn all of our existence
from her nurturing hands
they too will have every nutrient needed

she is more than our guardian angel

she is the goddess who loves us unconditionally
we are, because of who she is

2/2/19

that first date

the Italian restaurant where i had so hoped

would be a moment from Lady and the Tramp

and it proved to be as such

as the Chianti bottles danced in flames
atop red-white checkered tables

the musicians plied their romantic music

looking across the table

i recalled the first time i looked

upon that face

as the subdued light danced across

looking into your eyes

i saw every dream fulfilled

those smiles captured my every thought

i did not need my book of poems

nor crafted conversation

it was in that dinner we learned

our hearts were one

each sentence would find its' mark

as we echoed in a deep alignment

what was within

with our first breath

we were meant to be

on a park bench with poetry

lost in a Lady and the Tramp moment

and holding each other in our eyes 

whether across a table

in each other's arms

or in an airplane coming home

a gravity insouciant to any distance

we were meant to be

with that very first breath

2/3/19

i hear the key in the door

sitting at the desk my attention is not so rapt

i do not realize time or the familiarity

of her coming home

it closes and the footsteps start upstairs

that would be her placing her purse

upon the table at the landing

i follow the steps in the room above

there go her clothes

she is changing into her home workaday

now brushing out her hair

she moves into the bathroom

freshen her makeup

i hear her call down

that is so sweet, i love you

that would be the occasional lavender rose

i leave in there at times

my mother's favorite color was lavender

life is kind of like that, sometimes two for one

here are the footfalls

down the stairs, she descends

the door is opened. she disappears

maybe it is something in the car

an occasional exchange with a neighbor

might be why she runs at times behind

matters not, the door reopens

wait, something might be amiss

in the living room, one never knows

here it comes up from behind

hands upon my shoulders

a light kiss to the top of the head

followed by another on the cheek

a sweet i love you delivered to the ear

and she disappears into the kitchen

i am never asked what i want for dinner

that was settled by her probably

before she made breakfast this morning
altho in the realms of possibility, last year

maybe you are one of those men

who questions this list

saying why were you not first

and i would tell you that such ignorance

fails to see that being on such a list

shows devotion you will never understand

what you should know is the fact

she never has to call me twice

to the dinner table

proves my enthusiasm for the list most precious

her accomplishments

and that would be above your paygrade 
maybe why being first on your woman's list
has kept her from the accomplishments
she deserved to achieve in life

2/3/19