Wish ListI want to steal eye contact
butcher through the first attempts at being coy,
and wonder if you like me.
I want to share a meal,
brush fingers accidently while we walk to the car,
and have an awkwardly lovely first hug.
I want to drive places with you,
look over and see you being suave and nervous under your sunglasses,
as we chuckle about bad puns.
I want to see what shoes you wear,
what playlists you have on your phone,
what foods you love.
I want to ask what your favorite haunts were as a kid,
where you want to travel,
and if you have any irrational fears.
I want to answer the phone one day
and hear about an afternoon of adventures planned for just for us,
sparking a rivalry of pleasant surprises.
I want to eat cookie-dough with you,
scare you when you come around a corner,
and feel the back of your head when you get a haircut.
I want to pray with you,
sit by each other in church,
and worship together with unparalleled joy.
I want to send you love letters for no reason,
tell you when
Good Old FaceI see it now, your good old face,
A little worse for wear,
Like love-worn luggage tattered with
Adventures, bright and rare.
With aging spots, and nicks and knots,
And ears that need repair,
Bushy brows and sagging skin,
And shocks of snowy hair.
But laughter lines, the telltale signs
Of joy spread everywhere;
And boyish eyes, the best surprise,
I just can't help but stare.
Oh yes, you'll have a good old face -
Exquisite wear and tear,
But it'll be my good old face,
And we shall be a pair.
Gypsy SmokeHe wanted a hearth and logs to split,
Sturdy stones and crackling flames,
Cozy nights with quilts and books,
But she was gypsy smoke.
WastelandWild howls from wild dogs
Frozen crystals cut my feet
Northern gales cut the air
Out here where sky and wasteland meet
A frozen lake both fierce and fair
Have trapped the moon beneath the deep
It's locked and lost in icy fog
Out here where sky and wasteland meet.
Here I am on the edge of night
No stars to count, no wish to make
Bleak and raw, the shadows dance
On a marble moon beneath a lake
And all across the dim expanse,
A wasteland's cold, a bone-sore ache
No hope to soothe a tired plight
Just a marble moon beneath a lake.
A Lesser Young Lady Than IA lesser young lady than I
Might think there was something amiss
In her air, her address, her person-hood
To warrant a change like this.
The treatment's both proper and right,
A well-wish and a nod;
But warm one day and cool the next?
I might kindly label it odd.
It's not like I had much invested,
It's not as if we were yet friends,
But it's almost as though this is how it is -
How every spark shall end.
A lesser young lady than I
Might think that this never will pass
(This trial and error, this dating world terror)
And cry to the looking glass.
She'd wonder, and pick on her ears
Her nose, her eyebrows, her hair
She'd turn around quick to check her back
For a sticky note: "Boys beware."
So I guess I'm a lesser young lady...
But I'll glean what I can glean,
Just let the words fly, to whatever guy
And wipe the looking glass clean.
Umbrella MarchOne, two, three, four
Hear the coming uproar
March! (two, three, four)
See the mighty downpour.
Weapons out, banners bright
Every shape, hue, height;
Rain barrage and passing spray
Remember this Umbrella Day!
And yet! (two, three, four)
This is anything but war
Hup! (two, three, four)
This is earth and sky rapport.
Waterfalls from building tops
Heavy awnings, glowing shops
... But we're all glad when it stops.