. . . . . . .night-time. outside the frosted window, the sight of snow falling silently, gently, onto the frozen, snow-covered ground below. inside, warm and cozy. there we are, wrapped inside a mix of blankets, face to face with the cobblestone fireplace. the logged wall of the wooded cabin, all darkened, all for the exception of the flickering light, orange and yellow. a soft glow. a soft crackle, a loud pop of embers. winter night, hold you tight, i need you. caring, sensitive, affectionate, passionate. lights off, fire glow, afterglow. the beating of one’s heart, when the other looks into the others eyes, desire grows. i need you tonight. gorgeous, classy, alluring and captivating. silence speaks a lot, and we are listening to a novel. a glass of white, you are mine, i am yours – i am yours. craving, pining, yearning. wanting to know more, of you, about you. each day passing, learning more and more. to become closer, the feelings slowly creep in. the music stops, catch it on the flip side. throwing another log into the fire. filling another glass, running back to wrap each other tighter, closer. snuggle, holding ones hand, the comfort of the other. turned on to the same words, the conversation rises, and the hours slip by. laughing, knowing and the learning of each other, glimpses of paradise. there we are. and here, on the blanket littered floor, the pillow talk fades into silence, we slowly doze off. the fire slowly burns itself into a glowing pile of ash, and one wakes up to turn on the heat. returning to the slumber, my arm reaches out, holding you gently. // as morning breaks, the sunrise shines through where the curtains came together, breaking my sleep. as i rise, i wipe my eyes and slowly walk to the kitchen and put on a pot of coffee. i turn and swipe the curtain to the side, and look at the world, that is my day. and once i look, i rub my eyes once more, because the sight that is seen, i must be dreaming. i turn and walk to the door, and proceed to open it. you awake from your sleep. good morning, morning-glory. seeing that i am hurrying to the door, you ask, ” what is wrong?”. before i could even reply, my hand quickly opens the door, and immediately, our mouths dropped the ground. and there, to the amazement to our eyes, stood about five feet of snow, packed in, all around the cabin. the laughing starts as i shut the door quickly. there we are, snowed in. food, wood, drink, enough to last. so we carry on and shower. removing the blanket littered floor, and packing them in the chest that sits in the hallway, i cook up some breakfast, as you retreat to the bedroom, jumping up on top the soft pillow-top king. i tray up the food and serve you a breakfast in bed. and there, we share our snowed in day, with no plans, and no work. a whole day awaits, all for us . . . . . . . . . . c.2013 BGW
. . . . . here in this grassy field, tall and green, the sun softly shines; the warm summer’s breeze stirs through the uncut grass. walking through the field, up to the solitary oak that produces the perfect shade for our summer’s afternoon retreat. we lay out the picnic blanket, red and white checkered, and there we rest for a while. and from the moment we sat down, cooled by the shade, with hints of sun peeking through the leaves above, i couldn’t take my eyes off of you. the gentle breeze combs through your hair, and you pull the strands of hair away from your face and guide then to back behind your ear. sun-kissed skin, and the favourite little sundress. i am blessed, just to be in your company. the silence we make, echos the chirping of the birds, a single motored plane fly above. the moment our eyes met, wrote the novel of the moment. and out from within, the contagious smile makes an appearance. out from the distance a passing car speeds by and breaks the trance you had in me, and i grab the basket. a lunch that snacks of gouda cheese, a chardonnay, and a merlot, and crackers with caviar. and after we snacked and sipped through a couple of glasses, i lean my back up against the rough bark of the oak. again, i reach into the picnic basket and pull out my Hemingway book, and open the hard cloth bound book, and started where i left off a few weeks prior. there, you lay your head on my lap and close your eyes and you smile as you sigh and slowly doze off. one or two chapters pass, and off in the short distance, a rumble of thunder rolls. the blue sky slowly fades into a dark storm grey, the thunder rolls louder; the breeze turns to a wind, and the sky flashes light in the clearing down the road. you wake from your slumber and we start feverishly packing things back in our little summers afternoon picnic basket. one drop, two drop fell. we fold the blanket quickly, and head towards the truck. and as quickly as the first step back started, a hard wall of rain drenches, as now we are running, laughing one hundred yards all the way to the truck. forgetting that i locked the doors, i drop everything and stumble for the key, rain pouring and soaking. you comically scream and tell me to hurry. once unlocked, we throw everything in back and slam the doors shut. the rain in constant pour. still laughing we sit and wait. once again, i cant take my eyes off of you. beads of rain drip from the tips of your hair, onto your soft sun-kissed skin. i reach over to wipe the dripping rain off of your face and i lean in to kiss the love that is you. breathe deep, the windows fog, as quickly as it started. as quickly as the time faded, the sound of the rain slowly comes to an end and as i look up, and wipe the window clear, i see the sun peeking out from behind the lagging storm cloud. as we fix ourselves, i reach for the keys, and start-up the truck. as i back out onto the road and head back home, we crack open the windows, and smile. one summers afternoon picnic to remember, falling more in love with you, with each passing day, taking my breath away, making the memories that last a lifetime, making me want to be a better man, i can’t take my eyes off of you. . . . . .
c. 2013 BGW
running back to a true love, one that can never turn away.
the local pub, that is nestled comfotably on walnut street
“buildings sandwiched between buildings that stand tall and proud with history, charater”
genius of water
i don’t really have to explain on how amazing you are.
or how you can be the eye in my storm
alone, I have traveled a little distance,
and somehow, there you are, still on my mind
dream these thoughts, imagine the what if
this is what i’ve done, as I carry on;
the day that is before me, i conquer it without, but within.
looking out this window, watching the people hurry home,
the cars driving through the concrete jungles
still thinking about you, i am here, wishing you were too
talking, laughing, there we are, knowing, loving.
stay in, holding your hand, soft and light.
hearts beat faster, standing still in motion.
walking about, exploring, discovering,
quant shoppes, local bistros,
my smile, your grin.
all within my head, very little to hide now
with all I am, smiling, an honest word spoken
an honest wish wished
c. 2013 BGW
…….i love simon and garfunkel. their music is poetic and timeless. but this song, “bookends theme” is unforgettable. it’s been running through my head today. with all the bad news circulating in today’s world, we must find a calm within the storm. it’s a very short song, but the songs meaning is forever. theres another song, “old friends” that acts as a prelude to bookends. so if you haven’t heard this song(s) before, i highly suggest taking a five minute break, and pull yourself away from the news, and take a listen…. BGW
…..”Time it was, and what a time it was, it was
A time of innocence, a time of confidences
Long ago, it must be, I have a photograph
Preserve your memories; They’re all that’s left you”……
simon and garfunkel, bookends theme
. . . . . .sitting, with brief episodes of walking, pacing. there i was, right by the riverfront. there, majestically stood the city. a heavy curtain of fog was starting to lift, as the daylight broke, giving the city an overcast illusion. good morning. and there i am, possibly sitting in the best seat in the house. not because of the town i was standing in, but because what stood before me, on the northern bank of the ohio. behind me, the mile long freight train whistle blows. and as it’s crossing the old iron bridge, you can hear the click clack of the wheels hitting the rail joints. a deep breath, i sigh. i look around, american football autumn day, i’ll come back, baseball springtime game. the water has a calm current today, as the small soft riverbank surf washes up by my feet. i take the short walk over the bridge. trying not to look down through the grated floor below, i keep my eye on the passing of boats. as the bridge walk ends, there the city starts. // window shopping for a while, passing the time, local shoppes, big time merchants. in town grocer, mom and pop farmers market. the hustle of the traffic, a distant scream of sirens. i pass an office building covered in marble, shiny metal moldings, offering me satisfaction for my hunger, all too modern. so i left before i got into it. and i head towards walnut and find the local pub. and as i grabbed the golden door handle, a memory snapped into mind, and there we were, five years ago. blue eyes and all, all other surroundings blurred. sharing a rendezvous with conversations that could have gone on forever. and now they were just plain over. i opened the door and walk through a maze of tables and chairs, and once there, i sat at the corner booth and order myself an author g, and i find myself missing you again. the lunchtime crowd filters in and as quickly as it came, it went. and like the wind in the trees, i never did see you come in. the little bit of hope dashed and disappeared. the number of times i thought about letting you know that i was in town, never equaled to such. memories flood, and i grab my last sip. i must move on. leaving the scent of fish and chips for the sounds of downtown traffic honks and loud highway parties, i wait for the walk sign to turn, i push up my cuff and read the time. quarter past one. still early, but way too late. i cross where the cars have halted and came across vine. a street where a king’s court reigned and looked down upon me, never giving them a second glance. there, a few blocks down, the shadow of the genus of water covered the brightness of the sun from my eyes for a moment and i looked up upon the bronzed statues, a breeze blows, and a cool mist from the falling water floats by. studying the faces of all the statues, i walk around it. and i come across a crowd of people clapping and cheering around this girl, seeing that a man just proposed. and a crooked grin of happiness came across my face. and i paused. i lingered. frozen as if i was a part of the fountain. and there, i turn a quick pace back to where i started. and as quickly as i walk, the memories flood back to me. it was here in this city, the town i fell in love with, i fell in love with her. there was no real escaping her or the memory of her haunting beauty, just like thew city, itself. all i was doing was looking for some r&r and the memory caught up with me, it wasn’t supposed to, but it found me. back to my new favourite walnut street pub, i order another author g and pull out a scratch piece of paper and jot down a few lines. word here, sip, word there. and like a bad habit, i look at my watch again, three o’clock. early enough to where i’m the only soul in the place. silence and room to think. i take my drink and move to the same corner booth i had earlier. there i sit and do some serious thinking about everything. and as i take another sip, i glance and notice that a couple of corporate hot-shots walk in and walk up to the bar and order themselves a drink. it’s now ten past four. the after work crowd starts trickling through. it’s where the corporate big timers mix with the blue collars. sharing a pint, throwing darts, we are all the same after four or five. looking down on the piece of paper i was writing on, it is now full. i reach in my blazers inside pocket and pinch a piece of paper out of it. and as i unfold it, i notice that it already had some writing scribbled on it. and there, in front of me was the same piece of paper i received from you five years ago with your number on it. i laugh at first, because i realize that i haven’t cleaned out my jacket in a while. finishing off my drink, i reach in my front pocket of my jacket and push in those numbers that i have come accustomed to dialing in my sleep. one at a time, heart beats faster, doubt arises, last number and all i need to do is to hit send. . .i take one deep breath. . . . i freeze for a moment, and i hear her voice, “hello?”. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .c. 2013 BGW