Archive for old

a christmas eve together

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on December 19, 2013 by bradford graham west


the day fell asleep,  and night awoke

by evenfall

the sun was masked by the incoming clouds

and soon the winter night began

the snow fell gracefully and silently in its dance

and collected on the cold hardened ground below

too long ago and too far away –

spring,  just a faded memory


welcoming the winter is here

outside, on the front parlour windows,

the christmas lights reflected off of the thin blanket of snow,

illuminating the darkened porch – giving it christmas charm

pea coats and boots,  scarfs and hats layer in the warmth

as we go caroling through the neighborhood


down to the town square we go

the snow that had collected crunches under our shoes

the local shops were all decked in their christmas cheer glow

her hand i hold as she clings onto my arm

she catches the descending flakes and watches them melt


a child’s laughter fills a parent’s heart,  a merry christmas to all

it’s a christmas celebration as we skate on the ice

the hot chocolate and peppermint stick,  warm us up as we wait for  st. nick’s  arrival

all children eyes fill with amazement as their anticipation grows

christmas time wishes,  and a towns gathers

a towns prayer,  to a saviours birth we remember ;


one night of peace and unity peeks into a smothered world of uneasiness and uncertainty

every person, together,  if all only for one night,  stand and holds hands

praying  and hoping  for the same ideas and needs,  the peace and love that is lacking

in this nation,  in this world – in our minds.


please lay a hand of comfort and peace in those hearts that are suffering tonight.

we all are blessed,  but we all long for some peace tonight,  in us and in others

and in You we seek the shelter that we all need now

thank you Lord for the blessing of Jesus,  for in Him we can find that comfort and peace

the strength to live another day,  we long to walk beside you in assurance

in these times of wickedness and trickery,  You deliver the peace


outside the front parlour window

the christmas lights reflected off of the thin blanket of snow,

illuminating the darkened porch,  giving it christmas charm

the day fell asleep,  and night awoke

by evenfall

the sun was masked by the in coming clouds

and soon the winter night began


the fire crackles and pops and the christmas tree lights slowly fade in and out

the dog sleeps away on the warm pillow by the hearth

on the couch,  i hold you,  side by side,  my arm around you

and your head gently rests on my shoulder,  we are wrapped cozy in a blanket

the yule log glows brightly of orange flames of warmth

our eyes slowly shut

the tic tocs of the grandfather clock grows louder as the fire calms

winter night,  good night


the snow fell gracefully and  silently in its dance

and collected on the cold hardened ground below

the chimes toll six and the winter’s night tale ends

a christmas morning begins

the snow fell gracefully and silently in its dance

and collected on the cold hardened ground below

the stockings full and the aroma of coffee fills the air

a white christmas,  joy to the world

and a merry christmas to you

merry christmas to you


c. 2013  bgw


the cold morning sky

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on November 25, 2013 by bradford graham west


. . . . . . the night came quickly to draw the closing of another day.  the deafening silence was something that became just part of the routine.  the sound of the tea kettle whistled in the presence of  the abandoned company.  i fill  my mug with the water as the steam rose, and i drop in the tea.  i walk it over to the bedside table and set it down.  to the bedroom window, i walk over  and watch the wind whistle through the trees.  small sparse snowflakes start falling and frost forms on the outer edge of the glass.  pulling the robe tighter, keeping the warmth within,  i walk to the bedside and quickly slip in the awaiting bed.   the cool comfort the bed sheets was welcoming, but the vacant pillow next to me was unfamiliar.  //   sleep,  that’s all i needed.  the unfamiliar period in the day where i could just go an try to forget the stress,  aggravation and disappointment of the day and slip into a deep dream,  a place where i can find you again.  i sip on the  warming tea  as i reach for my book to read a few chapters.  poe,  hemingway or dickens come alive as the words strike images in my head.  but quickly my eyelids start to become heavy and my attention to the words become faded.   placing the bookmark,  closing the book , i turn over to turn off the bedside lamp.  darkness quickly covers the room as my restless eyes adjust.  a deep sigh and all the thoughts of what went on,  all the things i did wrong, what made each other tick,  her smile,  her laugh.  all the good times and even all of  the bad,  everything we had  etched well into the loneliness.   my mind desperately seeks,  searches for a sign or something to let me know that she’s still there,   thinking about me.  buts all about  the endless game and question of “what if”  and keeps my sleep awake.  a quick early winters wind passes by the window and the glass rattles.  the conversations i have in my head lead me to believe that im going crazy.  the endless thought of her,  her hello’s and her goodnight’s  stained the memory and present thought.  the constant stress laughs and tic tocks, picks away at the man who once was me.  uneasy restlessness  slowly crawls from my lower back and squirms up my back into my neck, arms and finger tips.  i toss and turn,  and i become a bed sheet burrito.  i force my eyes to find the sleep,  and the black of closed eyes calm.  deep and deeper i find a slice of calmness.  //   the phone that sat alongside of the night stand lit up and awoke my slumber.   in the foggy haze found between sleep and being awake,  i found your name on the unread text.  sitting up quickly,  i read the modern day sent message.  it said that you  needed to talk to me and that you wanted to see me.  she’d been thinking about me just as much as i was of her.  she wanted to see me,  now.  my first thought was that this was another wicked dream,  my mind playing a cruel joke.  i’d seen her coming back to me in many of my dreams,  my hopes,  but none that were real.   i jump from the bed and quickly freshen up and dress myself.  i grab my keys and quickly walk to the truck.   in the short time that i fell asleep,  the sparse flakes of snow had actually grew to a good accumulating covering.  the truck turns over and the wipers shove the small amount of snow aside.  as i drive,  the quietness of the night,  the headlights catch the falling flakes and the tires cut through the slush.  up ahead on the horizon,  the light of dawn started to break and up ahead another set of headlights came up from the hill not too far away.  as i fixed my eyes back to the section of road ahead,   a quick blur of a young deer darted out from the dark wooded grove alongside the road.  slamming on the breaks,  swerving to miss,  the truck began to fishtail.  fighting the spinout,  the truck finds the opposite side of the road,  a ditch,  an open field.   as the first tires caught the ditch,  it flipped the truck over and over.  flip after flip i lose grip, my head hits the windshield and ejects me from the seat.  out  ten yards away from the smashed truck,  i land on my back.  the ground cold and frozen.   the headlights from the oncoming lane stops and i hear the man rush up to me.  the snow crunches as it collects under the soles of his boots.  he quickly removes his coat covers my chest and arms to keep me warm as he calls for help.  i tell him that im fine,  but he doesn’t hear me.  off in the distance,  the faint screaming of sirens become louder,  once again i hear him tell me that help is coming,  but i tell him that im fine and that i need to see her.  again,  he doesn’t hear me.   as i see the police cars,  firetrucks and e.m.s. pull up,  i scream that this is all not necessary.  no one hears my words as the paramedics hang there heads over me.   and as they worked on me,  i was on the cold ground, white sheet and all.  but i was seeing this from above it all,  out of my own.   daybreak,  and the sun crests above the wooded horizon.  the cold morning sky softly glowed a soft blue, peach and grey.  off in the near distance,  the birds sing their morning song.  //  im looking for you,   and i don’t want to leave.  i want you to come back to me as if it was the beginning.  but as it came to be,  there weren’t any messages on my phone saying that you wanted me back.  that part i dreamt i suppose.  when you left,  i was never the same.  the void took my soul,  my motivation.  i need you and  i needed you.   the memory always haunted the present.  but as for what it was,  it blinded the future.  {the past always haunted the present,  and blinded the future} and as i moved along the day,  it was as if my feet were stuck in the cement. //  the night came quickly to draw the closing of another day.  the deafening silence was something that became just part of the routine. the sound of the tea kettle whistled in the presence of  the abandoned company.  i fill  my mug with the water as the steam rose, and i drop in the tea.  i walk it over to the bedside table and set it down.  to the bedroom window, i walk over  and watch the wind whistle through the trees.  small sparse snowflakes start falling and frost forms on the outer edge of the glass.  pulling the robe tighter, keeping the warmth within,  i walk to the bedside and quickly slip in the awaiting bed.   the cool comfort the bed sheets was welcoming, but the vacant pillow next to me was unfamiliar.  sleep,  that’s all i needed,  . . . . . . . . . . . .




c.2013  bgw

camelot has fallen

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on July 17, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . the sun sets below the tree line,  just past the wheat fields.  another tough day done,   a broken heart weighs heavy, and crushes within.  the thought of it all going away,  the fun,  the need  and the desire gone as simple as an eraser to pencil,  or maybe a rug being pulled away from under where i stand.   gentle breeze blows slowly across my face,  through the trees.   sitting here on the front porch steps,  my face in my hands,  wondering what the hell i did,  or what just happened.  because it happened so quick,  it left me in utter disbelief.    and now the words that were once in a neat pile,  now just flutter away,  leaf by leaf,  word by word.  and now the music we made love to is now just a knife stabbing  my feelings,  haunting my  memories.  the hunger comes and goes, and  i want to eat,  but there’s no one here to share this meal of  forlornness with.   i take a bite,  and i leave the rest to get cold.  desperately seeking for hope,   the blackened room blinds,  searching  for another  fresh start,  but there’s nothing left in your heart.  bedtime,  the coolness of the sheets,  the softness of the pillows and the complete quietness that screams out the loneliness.  i reach over to hear your good night,  and it’s not there.   the sheer pain in my body of emptiness,  kills me  to sleep.  the quicksand dream,  and the reality of you not there,  after the walk home dream,  i wake in the pool of tears.  no one is there to hear;   my plea has fallen on deaf ears.   a new day,  and i walk through the motions,  numb.   my feet reluctantly touch the ground.  the darkness surrounds the moment  i look to see my good morning start.  not there,  i take a deep breath,  and run my hands over my face,  walk on over to the sink and turn the knob.   cupping my hands,  i gather water,  and splash it upon my face.  doing this a few times,  i think about the day,  and all the things that need to be done.  i dry my face off and look in the mirror.   the worn out eyes,  the smile that has disappeared,  this is not me.  the early morning rain softly tapped on the kitchen window.  i reach for the coffee and start the brewing.  leaning on the counter,  standing there,  not in a morning haze,  but rather in a memory daze.    grabbing my cup,  i fill it with the welcoming brew.  i sit at the table and take a sip.   gone is you,  and the pain of  losing remains.   my body says “get up and go”,  but there,  my mind trumps and i waste time,  sitting in my chair motionless,  wondering how  i can continue on without you now.    gone is you,  and the pain of losing remains.  slowly i get up and get on with the day.  i move through the motions,  but the memory sticks with me,  haunting,  attacking every action,  every direction;  where do i run to?    Camelot has fallen,  and now sits empty.    gone is you,  and the pain of losing remains. . . . . . . .

c.2013  BGW


Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on June 3, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . planting bountiful seeds of tomorrow

we watch the flowers bloom

just before i rest,  see the petals softly fall to the ground

the cold wind whips through the air

and the harvest moon shines brightly;

harvesting my soul,  all done in a day’s work,

the harvest of my life,  what will you reap ;  seek,

and you will find welcoming arms

forever  in the fields of tomorrow,  always a possibility. . . . . .

c. 2004, 2013  BGW

the day off, the open road and the old sofa

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 19, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . . . sunday morning,  six a.m.  i wake to the alarm sounding off.   a moment of procrastination and i end up reaching over,  pushing the snooze button,  just one more time.  if only this was the first time doing so,  we’d already be up.  but this is the tenth time or so,  and i don’t want to leave here,  nice and warm,  with you.  i turn over and i wrap my arm around you.  and for the next ten minutes,  im just there,  holding you,  good morning.  i shut off the alarm,  and wipe my eyes  and yawn.  leaning over you,  i kiss you good morning,  and my kiss lingers a little longer.  soft lips and an early morning smile.  //  we wake,  and make our coffee.  a day off,   and we drive off.   we shower and dress, and head out the door in record time.  opening and closing the door,  morning air,  cool and fresh.  into the truck,  and here we go.   i’ll pick the road,  if you just tell me the direction.  picking the road,  and where we end up,  i don’t want to know.  deciding not go to the city,  and though we love it there,  but we aren’t dealing with that traffic today.   small back country road,  open and free,  you and me.  //  driving down the open road,  and a full tank of gas,  here we are.  daylights breaking straight ahead,  beautiful day.  and the pre-dawn grey is rolling away.  slowly the sun glows,  peaking up,  higher and higher.  rolling down the windows,  the air rushing in gently,  and in between shifting of the gears,  you reach over to hold my hand.   traveling down the roads,  you can smell the freshly tilled soil,   let’s get ready to plant.   driving through this country town,  you see all the elder farmers gather at the local gas station,  sipping on their coffees outside, besides their dually trucks,  tip your cap,  ‘morn.   corn field,  soy bean fields,  mixed in with the few local dairy farms.  we drive through the town,  a main street with one blinking red light,  aligned with  mom and  pop stores and  a neon signed corner cafe.   next to the volunteer fire station,  we stop at the local’s  farmers market.  there,  all the produce goods,  all natural,  never touched by the poison.  bright red,  red delicious apples,  homemade pastries,  jams and jellies.  strawberries and berries,  juices and milk, delivered straight from the local dairy farm,  and most importantly,  freshly brewed coffee.  we load up with breakfast food and coffee,  heading out, we continue.   leaving that part of town lead us to the middle of no mans land,  farmland,  and a well placed billboard or two.  an old red barn,  a shiny silo and  grain elevator,  accompanied by a grain fed semi.  horses roam the pastures , and cows grazing the grassy fields.  car games,  and  conversations,  fill the surrounding air.  and when a minute of silence came through,  the sound of the tires rolling over an occasional crack in the road filled the void.  thump – thump, thump – thump,  all in a timed rhythm.  the bright sunshine eclipses the next towns mileage sign.   but we know its coming up because there are houses up on the horizon.  civilization.  gas stations and a town square.  and the antique malls are flirting among the flea market form.  pulling over to their parking lot, restroom break.  we run in and are greeted by the smell of old history items and popcorn.  a weird combination, quickly gotten used to,  quickly forgotten.  but as i wait for you to return,  i start looking around, and get lost among the collectables and old lp records.  concentrating on looking,  im interrupted by you sneaking up behind me,  startling me , you laugh and say “gotcha!”.   booth among booth we look and look some more,  trying to justify every cool looking thing that would go great in our home.  an old seven-up metal sign, a hotel neon sign,  a fox wrap and a victrola,  laughing,  we pass it all up;  until you came across this victorian sofa,  fell in love it and gave me a hundred reasons on why we needed it.  i stand firm on my not finding a reason,  and you pull your ace out;  puppy dog eyes and a pretty please.  and  i’m trumped. why in the world would we need a victorian sofa?  and everything we own is so not victorian.  i think the oldest thing in our possession is maybe, 1990’s, not 1890’s.  but you continue your puppy eyes and pretty please pout,  and i have no choise but to cave in.  finding something so special in this couch,   you win.   you know just how to weaken me,  until i cave,  and i just laugh and shake my head.   walking up to the front, i pay.  receiving help loading it up into the truck,  you tell me not to scratch it,  but nevermind that it’s from the victorian age,  and has never been scratched once through a hundred and twenty some-odd years.   hearing my sarcasm,  you jokingly slap my arm.  after i get it all tied down,  we hop back in the truck and you beg to get back home so we can make room for your new-found treasure.   we turn back towards the way we came in,  and down the block we stop to refuel .  and once again a full tank and an open road.  car games and open conversation,  and of course the conversation turns to brainstorming on how to rearrange the living room.   as the conversation fades and  sleepiness settles in,  and you lean your head on my shoulder and doze off.   driving back through the same scenes and farm fields.  the same small town,  but all the farmers are now either eating supper or off to bed to get their early starts for the next day.  the sun sinks lower in the sky, and i need to stretch.  almost home i wake you.  up the road,  coming home.  home stretch.  i pull into the drive and shut off the engine.  all excited you hop out and run to open the front door.  and before i am even done with the first strap,  you’re back to help carry it in.  and as we carefully pull it off the truck,  i jokingly remind you not to scratch it,  and you give me “the look”.  backing it in,  maneuvering it around the corner and into the family room,  we set it down.  you move a couple of things and i put it in the spot you point to.  against the wall facing the window,  there we sit.  trying it out,  i put my arm around you and you lay your head on my shoulder.  “this place works for now,” you tell me,  as you begin  to doze off again.  i could stay here all night, sitting and day dreaming,  but you grab my hand and lead me to bed.  night time.  good night.  and as we climb up the stairs,  i tell you  that im glad that i talked you into getting the sofa,  because it looks real nice in its new home.  we laugh and change and slide into bed.  i turn over and i wrap my arm around you.  and for the next ten minutes,  falling asleep,  im just there, holding you,  wishing that the day never has to end.  but as long as i have her to wake up to,  i don’t mind facing the end of a day. 



c.2013  BGW

paint me a new day

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 14, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . the morning sun,  silently rises,  above the watered horizon.  the last of the morning clouds drifts slowly west,  across the new days sky.  a new canvas has begun.  the sunrise over the eastern shore,  softly glows orange,  hinting of  a pinkish mix.   the waves crash upon the shore,  washing up past my feet.  my feet sinking slowly in the soft sands,  around my heel,  around my toes.   the sea salted air,   breezes through my hair,   and across my face;  soft, like a lovers hand caressing my cheek.   evermore, the waves crashing ashore, wave after wave,  slowly creeping up towards the landline,  and then back down again.   sea foam gathers,  seagulls squawk.  morning time on the beach,  a solitary moment,  finding the sacred,  sought out desire of peace and calmness;  there i am.   a freightliner slowly eases across the outer most point on the horizon;  and inside the bay,  the fishermen collect the catch of the day.   the aqua blue starts to show as the sun climbs higher and higher in the days sky.  the warmth surrounds at an earlier pace than yesterday,  and so like the seagulls, the people flock to the shoreline.  sun bathe,  swim,  surf  and  parasail.  the noonday’s sun,  higher and hotter.    i run into the crashing waves,  into the water,  cooling myself.   jet-skis,  water skis,  pass by,  as i wade back up to the soft, hot sands  of land.  //  lounging in a hammock,  collecting my own sun rays,  i close my eyes.  distant laughing of people,  splashing in the water,  building castles of sand.  i feel the sun kissing my skin.  above me,  the bay’s breeze gently rustling the palms leaves,  and further out,  a speedboat races by.  as i doze off in the palm’s shade, a twinkle of sunlight peaks through, and hits my closed eyes,  and the dream of her comes sneaking back.   my eyes open,  and the crowd has found their choise of local tourist trapped foods,  and the sands before me,  once again comforts the desire for the peace within.   as the clock in the sky,  quietly tic-tocs away the day,  slowly sinking lower and lower,  reflections sprinkle on the waters.  orange, red and pink, mix later into a purple blush,  brushed onto the twilights canvas,  paint me into night.  // the  boats slowly charter back into the bay,  and the people who have a party in the sands, start their bon-fire, tiki torches and music.  the dark sky of night covers the horizon of everlasting waters.  the moon twinkled its light on the blackened waters below and the stars dance in the blinded sky.  the sounds of waves crashing and washing on shore, fill my ears.  to the right, landfall,  the boardwalk fills with people looking for a good time, a carnival ride.  magic mirrors and elephant ears.  // this is where i first met you,  some sixty-five years ago.  nine-teen forty-eight.   the boardwalk has grown a little larger from the last time we were here together.   but here,  the first time our eyes met.  but here, where our hearts and feelings collided.  our first kiss.   i’m  a little older,  and our children have all grown up,  and now have children of their own.  this day lies our anniversary.  the feelings still remain,   within my heart,  within my grey haired head,  as if you never passed.   the morning and evening walks along the shore,  are never alone.  the conversations are like you never had gone away. // the morning sun,  silently rises,  above the watered horizon.  the last of the morning clouds drifts slowly west,  across the new days sky.   a new canvas has begun.  paint me a new day. . . . 



c. 2013  BGW

a poem for a winter’s day, snowed in (part two)

Posted in Uncategorized with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , on May 3, 2013 by bradford graham west

. . . . . .the morning broke and the sunshine peeked in through the drawn curtain.  the smell of eggs scrambled with fresh,  green and red bell peppers, crisp turkey bacon, toast browning, and freshly ground  italian coffee; it all filled the air.  i plate it up and arrange it on a tray, accompanied by a jar of raspberry jam and a glass of milk. and as i walk towards the bedroom entry door, the dog follows,  wagging his tail,  happy and hoping that he will get a taste of a human breakfast.   i ,oh-so  carefully balance the tray with the one hand and slowly open the door with the other, trying my best not to tip the tray, and feeding the dog everyone’s breakfast.  the wooden door quietly squeaks and there you are, sprawled out on the bed, covered in comforters, staying warm.  as you see me with the breakfast you quickly jump out of your cocoon and position your back on the headboard, all ready, for your tray.  i set it in front of you and the dog quickly, patiently sits besides the bed,  giving his begging eye look.  i quickly run back out to the kitchen, and i grab my tray, and carefully speed walk back to the bed, were we both sit nearly arm in arm,  and dig in our tasty breakfast.  the dog, still looking on,  raises one paw and nudges your elbow.  gently, with your morning voice, you tell him  to “go lay down”.  whimpering to his corner dog bed,  acting like his feelings are hurt,  you tell him “good boy”.  as we finish our last bites, you wipe you mouth off, with your white cottony napkins and offer to take in the dirty dishes to the kitchen, and as you do you kiss my cheek and thank me for the breakfast.  and when you are done, like a high jumper from the olympics, you get yourself a running start from the kitchen and up the hall and into the bedroom and jump up onto the bed, again, and i give you a five out of ten score, because your toe hit the corner post of the foot board,  not making it a clean jump.  you jokingly slap my arm, as a chuckle. // now that we ate, and are back into our comforter cocoon,  we lay there for a few, toes touching, holding feet.   we pull the sheets and comforter above our heads and we work off our breakfasts.  emerging from the sheets, our faces meet the cooling air on flushed flesh.  and once again our dog is sitting at attention by the side of the bed, wondering what just went on.  reaching for the remote,  turning on the telly , only to find that the cables out. so we look for movies to pass sometime.  we’ve seen them all,  and we pass on that idea.  looking down the hall i see that our dog is pawing at the door,  pleading to be let out.  we look at each other, as we both forgot the little part, to where he would be needing to go out.  pulling out the well-worn sweatpants, i slip them on,  no shirt and bundle my winter coat up to my chin.  i pull on my boots and leave them untied.  you laugh at my quick thinking outfit and tell me that “you wouldn’t be caught dead outside this cabin with me looking like this!”,  and i turn smiling, and say,  “well, it’s a good thing that we are snowed in, then?,  isn’t it?”  as you throw a pillow at me,  barely making fifteen feet to my feet,  and quickly telling  you that you must play for the chicago cubs.  laughing,  i head to the door and  grab the only local shovel around…the fireplace ash shovel.  looking at it,  chuckling and saying it’ll do.  luckily the snow really wasnt that high by the area around the door, thanks largely to the winds, drifting the snow of to the side of the cabin.  feeling like a big dork, here i am, shoveling a large area, for my dog, with this ash shovel.  after about thirty or so minutes,  a shoveled area big enough for our dog, is done.  i gently toss the shovel on the cabins floor and start to take off my winters jacket.  i make a pit stop at the bathroom, and toss water on my face and up to my elbows and dry off,  with the soft hand towel.  i retreat back to the bedroom because as i called out your name to tell you that i was done, there was no response.  i opened the door only to find you lounged out on the bed, waiting.  a foolish grin can across your face, and i quickly closed the bedroom door behind me.  i thought for sure, that if we were outside, ourselves, we could have melted all the snow, quicker than what the sun was doing.  once again we emerge from our comforter cocoon and i re open the door, and head to the fireplace.  we find ourselves in the company of the fireplace.  slipping on your pj’s,  you bring over a game of monopoly, and set it up on the table by the fire.  i return to the kitchen and quickly make us a cup of coffee, and bring it along side the games board.  as the game goes on, the light outside grows more dim, as the light inside grows a little brighter.  the dog, in front of the fire, is curled up, fast asleep.  and as i land my racecar token on your boardwalk, only with four houses, you win.  as you do a little victory dance, i bow my head, shake it and laugh.  she always wins and i don’t mind.  because seeing her face smile,  it’s all worth the loss.  there in the dimming outside light,  burning candles illuminate brighter.  we quickly grab some dinner of lunch meat sandwiches and chips and talk.  and after being together,  i still could sit and listen to her and never get tired.  the way she speaks, the calming of her voice,  i still  get nervous and very tongue-tied when i have to answer her.  and i think she understands.  and because she understands,  she never makes me feel little or unequaled because of it. //   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. . . . . . . . . . . . . .


c.2013 BGW