he was not a boy-
he was a song
but no one knew the words
and no one could sing along
(except for her)
he was not a boy,
he was the way
the ocean kissed
her sandy toes,
and he was what kept her warm
on cold winter nights,
even when a flannel quilt
and a cup of her favorite tea
could not

she was not a girl
she was a story-
filled with metaphors
and meanings no one understood
(except for him)
she was not a girl,
she was the way
the breath of winter
painted windows in december,
and she was what kept him warm
on cold winter nights,
even when the monotone hum
of a sad, old radiator
could not

Somewhere in time there is a song playing, a well dressed man and a lady in a gown are dancing slowly in rhythm to the music. There is a live band playing that song - all of the members are dressed in a tuxedo and the piano player is singing. Somewhere in time.

Somewhere there are horns honking, sirens blaring in the distance and a couple in a taxi in the city, heading uptown. New York City - as if there is any other place in the world that can call itself "The City." Outside there is snow softly floating, the temperature is falling and the night is coming on way too soon. On the radio is a memory disguised as a song. He takes her hand and holds it tight. A tear falls from her eyes and he catches it with his kiss.

In another place - somewhere in time - there are children playing in a park, on a spring day, dogs and baseball catches, the sound of a lone performer singing a James Taylor song as lovers walk hand in hand. A central park unlike any other - Can you hear the music?

Somewhere in tune with time, where sweet memories are made, there is a child who is now an elderly man. He is struggling to remember just who he is, once was and if there will ever be a moment in time when he remembers clearly...

But there was a moment in time when he would walk straight, with inner music leading the way - music of love, joy and faith. There was a moment in this vast universe when he changed the course of the stars, made the sun shine even brighter and made the world a better place to be. Cooled the summer and warmed the winter - soft hugs and kisses and music all around. He made the choruses sing and the children laugh...Can you hear the music?

There was a moment in time when he would stand by a window, sweating, accomplished as his children each sang their own songs, moved to their own rhythm, each one leading their own way - yet always united as one.

There was a moment in time when he felt as if he was 'the man.' Just a moment when he felt a happiness, though fleeting it was felt and that moment he replays each time he lays in bed to sleep. Music and rhythm of love.

Autumn - leaves have completely left their trees, the branches are bare and the sun goes down way too soon. Cool evenings, a glow from the TV and shadows on the wall of someone walking - not sure if its past, present or future.

In the valley by the riverbed there is a sole soul sitting on a rock. He looks around him and the hills are filled with people, family, friends and strangers...the sun has just risen and a new day is beginning.

In another room there is a lady shedding tears surrounded by the love they created. She remembers the taxi ride and the way he kissed her tears away...the songs they danced to and the songs they sang out loud - somewhere in time they will be dancing again.

If you listen closely, put down all distractions - you can feel the rhythm. Close your eyes, let go and listen. Can you hear the music playing?

Lone pianist, playing softly and slowly. He's playing a song he once played, long ago...or was just yesterday? He plays the song and is back in time - slow dancing, tuxedos and laughter.

Listen for the music and you will find your way.

His cold heart and December
His eyes and hair,
As I remember, Burned amber

A story started on September
His heart was warm, Mine is ember
Two years, As far as I remember


He was a perfect pretender,
He stabbed me the next November
A morning fog of cold December


I believed, That's why,
I wasn't a pretender

That's why,
I bleed as far as I remember

That's why,
He's cold as every December

That's why,
I've got a roaring flame in my ember

Inky darkness fills the late afternoons
And doesn't retreat until well into the mornings
November rises, standing slowly taller
And carries arm-loads of damp, chill days
Into December’s crystalline, grasping reach.

The month of crescent moons and indigo flamed candles.  
Of burning sage and twinkling hooded lights flickering in frosted windows.  
Of chipped nail varnish and lips chapped with bitter cold.
Of darkened mornings with knitted scarves wrapped beneath pink noses and wet lashes.  
Of lonely evergreens and sleigh bells a distant howl in the wind.

He said he wanted her forever
Clearly not because they’re no longer together
I said I’d meet him on the other side of the sea
But he found a lighthouse and forgot about me
The bright lights of London he did greet
& simple girls like me can’t compete
With ******* shows and vegan Chinese
Because religious boys are so hard to please
I’m thinking in nursery rhymes
Just to pass the time
I know he never meant to harm her
But if we could just cut the drama
I might understand
Why he won’t hold my hand
Some things are best kept in December
But it doesn’t mean I won’t remember