This, I Offer You

I know that I am not beautiful

so, why should you want to gaze at me

my skin is scarred, hair turning grey,

more weight than I should carry

I will never grace the stage,

you may never hear me sing

but my touch is warm, my friendship real

and, such as it is, my heart belongs to you

Love in the Here and the Now

once, you were in love

it was mutual and it was real

but life and death got in the way

still, you remain faithful to that memory

that beautiful, precious, perfect memory

you persist alone in the crowds

when right beside you stands

one who would give you

more than you ever dared to desire

Dreaming of you

Idiopathic hypersomnolence,

a poetic term for this week’s demon
let me sleep  just a little more,
the bed, the couch, a quiet corner call to me

sleep, you are both my enemy and my friend

each swimming battle to wake is an interrupted dream

each relinquishment, a sweet return
a quixotic replay of precious moments
of recent days spent with you close enough to touch