the improbability of us

this is the first in
a series of three poems
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,

Amsterdam
‘Kinda thought
I was a mystery
and then I thought
I wasn’t meant to be’
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and how could it be…

that seeing your dark luxurient hair
shiny in the overhead light as it swished
and shimmered in rhythm to the warmest laughter
this pained heart needed to hear
and a voice only angels own

that seeing you
across the crowded room
through every invisible stranger
as if nothing else in this world could matter
but circling around from my dark corner to see your face

and why did…

the universe intercede on our behalf?
shepharding our two lonely souls to this room
this purposeful accident of us both
being at that Sunday night party
we had no plans to attend

’cause darlin’…

i had lost all hope by then
because each glint and glimmer
every sparkled facet of hope i once had
this jeweled hope i kept tucked in my heart’s pocket
the foolish dream that someday…

somewhere…someone…
some how would be there
waiting only for me to find her
and somedays the hope that kept me barely breathing
could not remind this heart any reason to exist

and there you were
holding court standing your ground
as if you belonged every place you stood
little joy creating laughter everywhere you are
everything i wasn’t or could ever be

and darlin’

i can tell you now i was
dulling this troubled heart that night
but the searing ripples criss crossing my chest
once these eyes locked in on yours
that slice of infinity gaze that shook me alive again

and i knew right then
i would have to be everything i wasn’t
and me pleading with the host who i didn’t know
nodding in the direction of your unmistakeable aura
‘please, sober me up. i have someone very important to talk to’
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and when my

painted furniture finally met your artwork window panes
this huge apartment you lived in with Lexie your Buddha Dane
when all the shelves were filled with our collectons
i had to ask why you lived in a space you could never fully furnish

’cause i thought if i ever met someone, he could just move in’

as if it was as rational as breathing
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Your time will come
if you wait for it,
if you wait for it
It’s hard, believe me…
I’ve tried
Your time will come
if you wait for it,
if you wait for it
It’s hard, believe me…
I’ve tried
.

tiptoe

dear new friends and old,
we are leaving in a few hours to spend
some time with family and to continue our
labor of love, restoring the 100 year old
house on our farm. i’ll be back on Tuesday,
in the meantime i thought i would repost this
poem, my second after joining 20 Lines A Day
in April.

thank you all for your continued and constant
encouragement, it means so very much to me.

if it weren’t for all of you, i wouldn’t be writing
this poetry of mine. please know what a gift you
have given me, that some days i still can’t believe
this is my blog, these are my words and you all,
are my friends.

thank you, so very much,
{{{ h u g s }}} and *smiles* to you all

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tiptoe.
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th

Amid this winter’s grey mist grip
our April mocks her Spring impression.
Rush hour red lights stop and start,
frustrated and my happened glance at

a waif like girl no more than nine,
she’s mouthing words of imagined rhyme.
I watch her whispering monologues
as she tiptoes boulders in the park.

Pure innocence her soft protection
from cruel worlds I suffer much too well.
I mouthed my thank you to the waif
and she tiptoed boulders until dark.
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written April 14 2013
submitted to 20 Lines A Day
prose and poetry challenge for April