First Love


, , , , , ,

I wonder

if you remember our childhood kisses
in our ‘den’ in the bushes;
our deep declarations
to be forever Mr and Mrs.

I remember them.

I wonder where you are now,
what you look like as a woman.

I haven’t seen you since we were children;
you were my world back then.

You and I
and the blue sky;
a lark singing
on high.

I wonder.


Bed or Write


, , , ,

the temperature is falling
and my bed is calling
to me
to get some sleep

do I retire
as I’m really tired
or continue to write
late into the night

I’ll make up my mind
after a little more time
in my comfy chair
then maybe I’ll stir

and go off to bed
with words in my head
and thoughts on my mind
’bout a poetic line

until I do
I’ll write for you
one more verse
for which is worse

tiredness and not sleeping
or not writing and not keeping
that spark alive deep inside
the indefinable that makes us write