Spinning Endlessly

February 25, 2011

I fell for your photograph,
when I saw it on the wall.
Then I fell into your folded arms,
I never thought at all
about where it might have ended,
or how it might begin:
My head was like a spinning-top
and girl, you were the spin.

Then I tripped over my shoelace,
that was lying in my way;
and I stumbled over what it was
I was really trying to say.
So you took my hand in your hand,
kissed me gently on the chin,
and you said you’d be my singing teacher,
teach me how to sing.

And we tripped through all the photographs
that we took along the years;
and we sang along to all the songs
that fell upon our ears.
And that spinning-top keeps spinning,
forever round and round,
as I count my endless blessings
for this love I somehow found.

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Coasting

February 23, 2011

Birds run together,
don’t they?
But only because
they know no better.

But we know so well,
don’t we,
the things that get lost
to the ocean’s swell,

and how hard it is
to see
the coastline destroyed
by a time-weathered kiss.

So while swallows fly for days,
easy,
we come crashing down,
thrown by the waves,

smashed against the cliffs.
Frailty:
that one lonely flaw
which went unnoticed.