This summer is alive
in me and in you.
In the shine of the sun
is your eyes in mine
dancing with the rhythm
of the wind blowing
your hair past your ears
showing in full color
the extent of your smile
with my smile,
on this bright summer day.
My lips quiver
with the thought of this fantasy
and it's force
as it pushes to the surface.

And the thoughts of the daisy
in your hair
and the touch of your
fingers with mine
and the love swimming
off the grass
and into our eyes
is all I dream of.

I hope your parents
are proud of you

I hope when you
look in a mirror,

it doesn't laugh
at what you are

and what you
could have been

Because when you
sleep in the dirt

No one will laugh,
but everyone will smile

because they will laugh,
at the waste of life

You prove to be
everyday.

I'm sorry for the sweat
that drips down my neck,
past the hairs of my chest,
races across my abdomens
like it's running from the
Native Americans with
arrows and bows in hand,
following the hair trail
to my skin cave,
down the passage way
speeding to the tip
to drop to my toes
then roll on the floor
to melt in the dirt.

Out of the
deepest crevices
of me pours
your love,

And on this
bridge we stand,
and let time blow by
like the wind.

Although I know
this love isn't mine,
I'll hold onto this moment
and let this life continue.

When this night
rests itself upon us,
and the children
close there eyes,

My thoughts will stay
steady on your lips,
and the water flowing
under the bridge.

And on this Bridge
I sit and stare
at the rocks laying together;
what could have been.

The tidbits of creases
in the skin of
her face,
surrounding  her mouth
and extending her lips,
lighting
her eyes,
showing her cheeks
is beauty.

The way the words
dance out of your
mouth
like the steady flow
of water pouring down
the side of a cliff
Enchants me.
The thrill of the words
ringing from your mouth
make my spine tingle
and my teeth chatter.
the way your lips
dance with words
captivates me.

Boots clicking together
as the men walk
through this rubble
that once had a
      Dream.

Stomping through
this shattered town, hope of life
is growing dull.

I never liked
the sound of dirt
crunching beneath
my feet,
and I never liked
telling my kid no,
But most of all,
the thought of death.

This town
will never be
as bright as
it used to be