Wednesday, September 24, 2014


the prickly feeling --
that death-defying --
over your head --
out from under what was once real life --
caught up in the wind --
soft like a breeze --
yet, heavy like a storm --
a dark abyss --
enraptured by a faint feeling of remembrance --
the nearly cosmic --
somewhat humiliating --
completely vulnerable --
nearly always intoxicating --
push and pull --
back and forth --
colored world by a once-was-stranger --
the moment before the fall --
the impact and resolution --

the can't catch my breath,
can't form my words,
can't sit, can't stand, can't live without feeling.

not all at once.
but in waves and in cycles.
in days and in weeks,
as the months turn like pages:
a book gaining substance of stories and of us.

one year.
there you were -- once in a somewhat-long-ago dream that
was my reality.
there you were, and now here you are.
one year later.
here in this not-so-much-a-dream that is reality.

and my eye is caught by you,
and my words are filled with you,
and my heart is tied to you.
and, by-the-by, one year and we're still hoping for more.

it's a little love with a lot of time,
or a lot of love with so little time--so it seems--
but it works and it's us.

one year of an us brings wonder into a life, let me tell you.

happy one year, my love.
happy one year to us.

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