I sat
sweating in my July hat
your leg warm on mine,
your smile glowing near my cheek,
...
You give me
poems speaking truths,
living pictures
that dance for me;
...
Long shadows
this bright November morning.
Sun
...
It was one of those nights when clouds hid the moon,
when you said, 'Come to bed, love, ' and I answered, 'Soon...'
as I opened the windows on Facebook and Myspace
and started to blog, and our love was in second place
...
Easy to give up, when you’ve been given up on.
Easy to step into the shade,
avoid harsh light that points up
the errors that you’ve made.
...
Has it all been said?
The Winter Wonderland,
the landscape under coverlet,
dreaming in a soft white bed.
...
These poems are from a little book that I am writing and illustrating, about my holiday last week with my lover, Dónall, on the Amalfi Coast. We had a lovely little cabin on the side of the cliffs in Praiano, with a wonderful private balcony. Most of the eleven poems I wrote last week were composed there, in our own little Garden of Eden. This was not a honeymoon but it sealed our feelings for each other and confirmed Dónall as the love of my life.
1. On the Balcony:
...
Aging, I look in the mirror.
There I see my future
etched in lines that
my fingertips struggle to accept.
...
Turning her head she finds his sleeping face
a few inches from hers. A moment to hold
in her mind’s gallery. Immobile, peaceful,
open to her calm inspection,
...