2/21/11

There once was a woman who talked all the time.

From sunset to sunrise she preached and pronounced.

She chattered and prattled and wistfully whined,

And when irritated, expounded in shouts.

She issued, with volume, each thought in her head,

Without second thought of result or effect.

There was no intention behind what she said,

Just pure stream of consciousness, launched and beset.

And as each cacophony fell from her tongue,

What subtext did her conversation belie?

Perhaps it was just songs of terror she sung,

And fear of the silence that sounds when we die.

2/20/11

On a table in my parlor,

There a half-spent candle sits.

You were with me, sitting near me, when at first its flame was lit.

Now, your presence, but remembrance,

Yet, this candle still burns bright.

How can something so ephemeral outlive so strong a light?

Still, time passes and the wax drips,

As this too shall be consumed.

And though countless of its brethren may illuminate these rooms,

You’ll be with me, sitting near me,

Basking in the fire glow,

Of my love that lasts forever after all lights come and go.