Starbucks for the beach sleeper,
cigarettes for the cruise ship worker,
around the world a further three times more
with a six-a-day job, one on shore.
She smiled with Gatsby glare.
She smiled with  fair, tied back hair.
She smiled.
And how her love for Poe and Wilde
found its way to my ear a mere three year veer
around time itself.
Turkish delight is not a food nor a sweet
but a lady who gives a discreet smile to those she meets.
My cafe in my street has you across from me
and the books I read have you printed in an uppercase key,
black on the white and bound by the spine
for you are the cruise ship lady, the lover of mine.

Green eyes
Brown hair
It’s your smile
That makes me
Care

Or not even
When you’re here
It’s every season
I’m hot cold and
Always perfect with
Your kisses wherever
They land

Onto me I hope
But I can’t tell
A hit from a
Miss my eyes are
Too busy licking your
Figure over and over

Maybe I looked
Too much
Maybe I didn’t
Say enough
Either way you
Are gone

And its tough

'Twas midnight in the schoolroom
And every desk was shut
When suddenly from the alphabet
Was heard a loud "Tut-Tut!"

Said A to B, "I don't like C;
His manners are a lack.
For all I ever see of C
Is a semi-circular back!"

"I disagree," said D to B,
"I've never found C so.
From where I stand he seems to be
An uncompleted O."

C was vexed, "I'm much perplexed,
You criticise my shape.
I'm made like that, to help spell Cat
And Cow and Cool and Cape."

"He's right" said E; said F, "Whoopee!"
Said G, "'Ip, 'Ip, 'ooray!"
"You're dropping me," roared H to G.
"Don't do it please I pray."

"Out of my way," LL said to K.
"I'll make poor I look ILL."
To stop this stunt J stood in front,
And presto! ILL was JILL.

"U know," said V, "that W
Is twice the age of me.
For as a Roman V is five
I'm half as young as he."

X and Y yawned sleepily,
"Look at the time!" they said.
"Let's all get off to beddy byes."
They did, then "Z-z-z."

Soft light creeping in
I sip coffee, hot and black
Glimpsing back, I tilt my chair
Blue sky through spruce boughs
Retrospective of your eyes

Sometimes
when I can't even
try
to get to sleep,
I lie there
and think about
everything
I will never find out.

Like; why that girl
was staring at me.
Like; if my father
is still awake.
Like; if all the people
who asked me for directions
got to where
they wanted to be.

When you hear a love song,
or when you see a couple kiss,
do you still think of me?
Do you reminisce?

When you watch a movie
with a love story so unreal,
do you still think of me,
or the way we used to feel?

When you hear my name
do you still feel the butterflies,
or remember the chills down your back
when you looked into my eyes?

When you're all alone,
when you have some time to think,
do you still think of us,
and the way we used to link?

Everything I asked
is everything I feel and do.
I guess I didn't know what I had
until I lost you...