04-14-2023, 01:45 AM
ForGiving
I felt the joy a springtime morning brings,
the day you sang your heart to me, alone.
You offered me a song that I still sing,
its melody, the dearest gift I own.
When nights were young, affection raw and bare,
hot pleasures blazed between our souls like fire.
We danced on glowing embers without care
and fanned the flames that sprang from pure desire.
Last night, we peeled through books of photographs,
and had to smile at how we looked back then.
Between the pages, notes that made us laugh,
a message written sometime way back when-
that love is for giving, makes life worth the living- still true,
and sure enough, it has steadily carried us through.
And a poem about something that scares me:
No Magic Bullet
Certain law makers
will do anything
to protect school children
from horrible books,
from improper artwork,
from feeling bad about history,
from singing about rainbows,
from being hurt by anything.
They will do anything
to protect our children.
I felt the joy a springtime morning brings,
the day you sang your heart to me, alone.
You offered me a song that I still sing,
its melody, the dearest gift I own.
When nights were young, affection raw and bare,
hot pleasures blazed between our souls like fire.
We danced on glowing embers without care
and fanned the flames that sprang from pure desire.
Last night, we peeled through books of photographs,
and had to smile at how we looked back then.
Between the pages, notes that made us laugh,
a message written sometime way back when-
that love is for giving, makes life worth the living- still true,
and sure enough, it has steadily carried us through.
And a poem about something that scares me:
No Magic Bullet
Certain law makers
will do anything
to protect school children
from horrible books,
from improper artwork,
from feeling bad about history,
from singing about rainbows,
from being hurt by anything.
They will do anything
to protect our children.