Memories

“soundly”

i gently rouse
from my afternoon nap,
i’m slightly startled
i had fallen asleep.
i am met
by the stuffing of sounds-
a train rattling by,
road hungry, devouring
landscapes,
belly full of fire
huffing gas and ambition
like stout men off to work.
the tapping of keys
on a laptop. business. a dance
of spider fingers
weaving a bit of work
into a webbed success,
voila!
rain. ahh. pattering, cascading,
river drenching
a sun-dried weary
suburban forest.
lightning. thunder. if the powers
had children
i imagine them now
rough-housing like tumble weeds
amongst the clouds.

delicious, i think, and i cozy back
in my nap time after-haze,
enjoying this afternoon-
quite soundly-
with a sigh.

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“face”

i have never touched
one’s forehead
as i do yours, how
beautiful are those lines, the crinkle
of your eyes
the scent of cologne
and shampoo, damp in
the summer night
and this smile, you have
melted me as if i were
butter on a skillet
 
i did not know then
the heartaches to endure
the love to experience
the myriad of troubles
ive fallen into-
enchantedly, passionately,
i’ve come to love
the mole on your neck
and how you laugh
when I kiss it so
the smallest things, the flaws,
the holes, the anger,
the love and want, the
humanness
of you

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“boheme”

darling, I’m in wonder
my fingertips
washed in rouge wine
my glass
star-bathed in the watercolors of
a dozen stringed lights
dripping off the vines
of this old bar
my being
soaked in the music
of a familiar song I have fallen for

you

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“basket”

cool cat, you
lazy-grinned sweetheart
sultry-sipping Houston’s alleys
as if you’ve dipped
your old-fashioned glass
into the smoking skies
and had your fill
of all this city’s
messy marvels.
Ay, I’d join you.
I’d wish again for the
sugar push of lips
to cigarette smoke, my
ash tray smudge on a
clean white shirt. Bad
boy, hole in the heart
devil of a
joy

But I basket
all your sweetness
in my arms.
And only the love
of summers and
angels
can kiss the
heartaches
we hide

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“rain”

rain.
slow brushing sleepy streets
dew dripping on the eaves
wine gushing out of spouts

rain.
a Sinatra’s song playing
a television turned down
cold evenings with someone
you love

rain.

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“unlocked”

-part one-

Oh door, you have been shut,
the better to quiet the noise.
And yes, the handle has rattled
and the wood has banged
under the weight of your pressures.
But oh, I have not budged
from where I stood. I did not wince
at the agonies or the hounds. And perhaps
a thousand trains passed, or
a hundred storms raged, yet
I did not hear
a sound.

-part two-

the banging had stopped. quiet
after the rain.

I listened.

I heard laughter.
I heard music.
I saw a bit of light from
under the crack.
Curious, I unlocked it.
Pushed it open, just a peek.
a bit more.
How funny, yes. How funny
to realize
how I’ve missed
the light of
your ways.

All you had to do
was smile.

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“window”

Somewhere in this world
is a little cafe
on a cobbled street corner
and the rain and mist
quietly fog the glass
And I imagine I’m there
while the coffee warms
on my fingertips
as I contently gaze
out the window
at all the passerbys
and wonder at
how kind life could be
with you.

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“over coffee”

speak my language, darling
let me hear
the flutter of your dreams
free-falling from your lips
as we wander
the dawns
and nightfalls
of your heart
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“My Stowaway”

Little boy, my stowaway, curled beneath my heart,
drifting sleepy soft and coy, never far apart.
Do you smile I wonder now, when I say goodnight,
do you calm at the sweet songs, so you sleep so tight?

In the morn’ I wonder if, you smile as just I do?
Looking forward to each day I get to spend with you?
I can feel each little stretch, little foot and fist,
every hiccup on and on, every jump and twist.

And I know you love the most, chocolate milk, ice cream,
asking for that every night, waking me from dreams.
And I know you also hate, loud sounds boom and sneeze,
you kick and punch and bundle tight and make my stomach squeeze.

I wonder what you look like too, how cute will be that nose?
I cannot wait to kiss your cheek, your forehead and your toes.
And will your eyes be like the night, or blue as a bright sky?-
eyes to embrace the whole grand world, with laughter and with sigh.

And when the day comes when we meet, I cannot wait to say,
My little boy, my stowaway, I love you, every day.

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For my little Tamim Mathew Issa – born 9/9/16

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“Bedtime Stories”

Let me dim the lights just so,
the shadows creep against the walls
and mad men stumble drunk through halls
and sweethearts scatter wrought with woes.

Let me turn the page just so
the valleys darken long and low
and ice frosts over mountains long
and caverns breathe out broken songs.

Let me pause a line just so
you worry where to sleep and hide
while villains wait with smiles so bright
to tempt the lost out from the night.

Let me read the words just so
you hold the sword up high and strong:
The demons buckle from the throng-
A thousand heroes a mile long.

Let me close the book just so
you lie your weary head and go
where dreams have carved a golden throne
for heroes bedtime story-born.

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