Poet

Tonight I long for the constance of your affection
the fortitude of your devotion, the range of emotion;
I desire nothing more than peace, safety and love.

No longer a slave to my composition
I sit and stare at my reflection, complexion
and wonder why I am always so naive.

My late night lover works in fiction
making me the star attraction, a unique reaction
between heart and soul, a song to weave.

The Farm

I remember long, hot summer days:
Without a care to the hustle of the world,
simply wandering one of many ways;
escaping to nature whenever I could.

No judgement or worry I found in the trees-
without which the sun would have burned-
my humble facade, the gentle release,
as the fickle seasons were turned.

The grass grows longer in places without-
on hilltops and meadows a warm breeze
blowing my whimsical imagination about;
a lonely afternoon passing with ease.

I long for those days, the simple and free;
The peace of the grass under shady elm tree.

Muse

Your smile hasn't changed or faded to your age;
I'd almost forgot the way you sparkle and flame
without regret, remorse or dispair to mirage-
the visage is an instrument worry can claim.

You've always known the depths of my heart;
without your burning questions I become lost.
Developing patience is no doubt and art,
but I struggle to swallow the astringent cost.

Escape is extravagance unimaginable to me,
yet nothing will tarnish the finish in my soul.
I love in the virture to live and let be
yet only my muses can make me feel whole.

No other could ever my hunger appease;
Your beauty a complement to my subtleties.

Maybe

One day you wont drive me crazy
One day
Maybe you won't be so lazy
All day
You know just the wrong thing to say
And they will love you anyway

Chorus:

Maybe you won't be so cold
Maybe one day you'll see
Maybe you won't be so angry
Cought up in your own
Little piece of the world.