I love you. That will always be
True. Hold onto it. It's our life-
Raft, the dinghy on which we'll
Sail in shallow shoals to isles
Both glamorous and fresh. I'll
Love you always, when forever
Seems closer rather than not.
I love you, that is always true.
Tag Archives: #lovepoem
Valentines
Flowers are symbolic
Words are hyperbolic
Sometimes. Or maybe
Not. Love is a happy
State but elation can't
Be permanently held
On the highwire that's
Life. We balance our
Happiness each day
My heart is full of love
A happy state held on
Life's highwire. I am
Elated but not giddy
Just intently, quietly
In love. Hearts, flowers
Love song
If I remember you
Will that be enough,
Or is it too little or
Is it too late? When
I remember you will
That be enough? Or
Is it too little or too
Late? Is my memory
Ours. For always. Now
Love Recalled
There will come a moment when
All we remember of this moment
Is the time it took us to cross the
Street or the care we took to dress
Before we met. The time will have
Passed without incident and the
Moment gone by without remark.
Remarkable as it seems to have it,
An event so memorable pass out of
Our memories and go by without
A souvenir. We have no mementos,
Only vague memories of a time so
Important to who we are and who
We will be, to the us we became in
Time, after that moment passed
Shimmering
The whole world should glitter like
This. Like it does for us tonight and
Most nights when we pay attention.
At a loss
His time is lost and eludes him.
Words are hard to find, but anger
Rises easily. Maybe it's all those
Missing words and the slipping
Time that make him mad. I know
It makes me sad and infuriates.
I feel unmoored. How must he be
Feeling? He's the one whose lost
Time and misplaced his thoughts.
How many ways
How many ways can we say it?
If it is missed and lost forever
Is it really lost if we mourn it?
We remember that it is missing
So all we have lost is not gone.
It is commemorated, cherished
And ever present in our past. It
Is intricately connected to who
We are now. Nothing is gone so
Long as our hearts recall the loss.
How many ways can I say I miss us?
The loss is real, I can feel it, but
You are not lost. I find you every
Day. I remember love and warmth
And caring. I cherish who we are
While I remember who we were.
How many ways can my heart
Break and still be full with hope
And promise? Love is resilient.
How many ways can we say it?
How many ways do I remember?
We are ever present in our past.
I can say that and all is not lost.
Ardent
Feelings. Emotions. Is too
Much enough? Is a lot all
There is? A lot can be too
Much or not enough. It's
Hard to sort through and
Too much to feel. It's a lot
Beauty
You are a beautiful man.
You have been known to
Make me sing in intimate
Pleasure. Age has bent us;
It gnarls our bones and it
Bends our backs so there
Isn't a straight line in our
Bodies and the songs we
Knew in the night are just
Memories. Memories we
Treasure. Memories we
Cherish just as we cherish
Each other long after our
Power is sapped and our
Memory fades and we are
Turned crooked by time's
Relentless passage, aged
Into a new, an unfamiliar
Beauty. I still sing for you
Time worn
Restless beauty is for the
Young. We are no longer
Restless nor are we young.
We are not strong of body but
Full of the history of our days.
Our composure is wherein
Lies our beauty and the
Strength we nurture as our
Own. Ours isn't the strength
Of youth. We need not flex
A muscle to brace our claim
At the beauty that we have
Earned. Ours is a resolute
And quiet beauty, a stillness.
We are not strong of body; we
Are full of the history of our
Days. Therein rests our beauty.
Not in our youth but in our age.
Tamara, really 