The type of love I care for most
Is the admiration
From wind
It tumbles right by you
And doesn't know how to speak
So instead, it blows through your hair
With so much unconditional love
The wind doesn't ask why you don't thank him
For the favors he does for you
Since the boy who loves you
Favorite sight
Is the constant wind tangling and flowing
Through your hair

Ocean waves lapping the shore.
Everything faded out leaving only the crash tsssshhhhhh of the waves nullified in the sand.
Drowned in the rhythmic arrangement.

Coconut trees in the distance rubbing leaves like the supporting instruments on this beach orchestra.

And then there was you.
And me.

With only the moon over head.

Think of a wild forest filled with every
Known flower. Sometimes you'd miss it,
But it's there. Cleverly
Hidden among loud ones. It'll hit
You like a comforting wave,
Making you feel happy,
Serene. So very safe.
Maybe it's sappy
But that's how I think
Of her. She's the softest flower.
Always on the brink
Of heaven. The magnetic power
Of lulling you with love, kindness.
She's always there, basking in her own beauty

-m.b

lie with me
until the moon says it's last goodbye
and the sun peeks his head up
hoping to catch his lover before she leaves
then lie with me longer

kiss me
like the wave kisses the beach
drawing in then drawing out
never ending their dance
then kiss me longer

hold me
as the earth holds the tree
never letting go
even through the roughest storm
then hold me harder

love me
with the passion of a thousand summer thunderstorms
a mix of every emotion
fighting for dominance
then love me *harder

speechless
as you read to me
I watch your lips move
but find myself
hearing only the thought
of kissing your pretty mouth
speechless

Growing up with you, it started in our
schools sand box.
I only remember the stare i had for you
while i filled up a bucket with my tiny
shovel.
Later you grew into the piece that was
missing from my puzzle.
Always referred to as childhood sweethearts.
Years branding us with crows feet, and
still listening to Mozart's.
How we love the classics, sunny days
feeding the pigeons on the park bench.
Looking at the children in the sand boxes.
Catching the little boy with his first stare."