The Missing Piece

I miss the whistling pines on a snowy evening

A bright sun the next day

The snowmen melting away

The cold winds traveling north

We huddled around fire making merry

I miss my innocence

The mud houses and toys

The fear of ghosts and endless prayer

Long fairy tales lasting into morning

I miss her

The nights spend beside her

The time together on the grass

Sweet nothing exchanges and stifled smiles

Years have slipped in her pain

Thirty Three

 

I would wait for her to call

To tell me I have turned thirty three

And still young for her

To tell me that she loves me

And can't wait to see me again

Her soft words would sooth me

And would sure draw a tear

Gently it would rolls down the cheek

And wet her picture

I would wait for the time

When she would be mine

I would miss her

When I turn thirty three

Your Magic

I though of walking away
Stumbled, bruised and torn
I had to return; back to you
Your magic is never ending
And you are a tease
But mine

Let's be together
And build a home
I hunt and your cook
We raise kids
With lions and wolves
They would grow up

The day I have to depart
Hold my hand
And sing me a song
On the porch
Hold me in your arms
I would smile while the life fades

Busy! Busy! Busy!

 

My girl is always busy.
Busy! Busy! Busy!

She sleeps light,
And when woken feels dizzy.

I call her a thousand times,
The ringing phone makes her tizzy.

My girl is always busy.

She warns me to behave,
And to stop acting like a crazy.
Nothing please her,
I should maybe try blue daisy.

My girl is always busy.
I get restless with longing;

When I see her I get a look lazy.
If I plead my case to her;
She calls it a dream delusional hazy.
Busy! Busy! Busy!
My baby is always busy.

The Greatest Love Poem

I grow fond of you each day;
You blossom like a rose.
If I had a choice, I would steal you,
And plant you in my life.
No more would my eyes long; your smell on me,
And I would be complete.