fading of a maybe love

the days start well now he is no longer an issue
as he is fading she gets things done
like work and remembering food
not thinking of him first thing in the morning

there is a lot going on even so
and she only compares others to his image
once in a while when no one is watching

as his appearance is fading in reverse
going back to the mist where he was before
the days end well now he is
an issue of fading importance

Protected: The true man

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After all

Lay your head on my shoulder and wait
For now the first birds sing
And we won’t interfere
Let’s listen, let’s hear
Nothing more.

Just you and me and morning sun
A day beginning in a dream
All the past behind us
Will not interfere
Not anymore.

Moving on
From pain to you
From past to future
To a place we were before
Forever loving, forever more.

Lay your head
On my shoulder and let me
Make you safe. Now I know you
And you know me also. Now
We move on, nothing less, only more.

Remembering

Today would be the 70th birthday of Toussaint, my husband, who died in 2016.
Realizing once more what I miss: his honesty, his love, companionship, and, in spite of all our imperfections, a very good relationship.

We were supposed to grow old together.

Verdict

There we are in court, not even close
by the way our thoughts have taken over
and all the years we lived have spoken,
as guessing jury members in an unfair trial,
as barristers who bribed the witnesses and
tampered with the proof.

Not even close we are now,
but we almost could have been.
Life made us careful
and prosecutors, disguised as facts,
took over.

And of course we both are right,
as we investigated our own fears,
and we are judges too,
thinking we know right from wrong,
we know to be careful and suspicious,
to listen to our instincts for signs of disturbances
and of course we are right
to let our closeness slip in the final verdict.
Heads will roll.

But we can also ignore the evidence, and grow
above ourselves in the process, bailing each other out,
for together we would not be two times one prisoner
in separate death row cells.

Our thoughts might move closer and we could plea to free us,
to be who we are, better and in peace. If we want, we can convince.
It is our only freedom. To be sentenced not guilty,
moving away from our fears.
Meeting at the gate, together leaving the court of justice behind.

The Balance

My 5th English poetry anthology, published by Winter Goose Publishing, is out now! As kindle edition and in print. 144 pages.

“The Balance” on Amazon