I would plant you a garden of the pinkest roses
a place to sit in fragrant abandon with hands held tight
I would give to you those cards and letters
written in my messy hand with grace my guide
I would praise your beauty as I always did
in word both writ and spoke, in song, and in art
I would bring you breakfast in bed, with hot coffee
and some delight I made
I would hang on each word you said
as ever your listener with compassionate understanding
I would take your pain, as I always did
within my touch the healing hands you knew
I would show in a hundred little ways, with each new day
the esteem of love’s benevolent embrace
I would again bring you to the height of ecstasy such
as we only felt together
I would drum your name with every heartbeat
as I do still to this day
I would love you as the sun rises and as it sets
with the strength of the new day
I would love you in the tangle of limbs so well remembered
and the soft sweet kisses of passion
I would make my work your happiness and joy
in which I find my own, your smile my reward
I would love you to the end of my days
and I will, anyway


She was the first to say the words
three syllables that set my heart to flame
and soaring delight
the tender passion of word and deed
bringing warmth and unbridled ecstasy
all stolen moments and kisses
and lovemaking in secret
promises of ever love
she was the first to say the words
and I gladly took them in
and gave my own in hallowed tone
and the bright sparking enchantment
in the power of that purity
her snow-skin and azure eyes full beauty
shining soul from within as blazing beacon
and I was drawn in moments that stretched forever
to the benediction of her love
those words were the last she ever spoke
aloud to me
in that voice I still crave to hear
beside me on the pillows we once shared
with tangled limbs and the peace we found
held close in arms and serene repose
as my heart broke it took my mind
shattered like so much glass on the floor
of her loving betrayal
yet still, through tears and soul-drenched fear
I dream to hear again those words
from those perfect lips in her melodic tone
I wait forevermore


Her name is old Hebrew and means
the star of the morning
and you can see that in her eyes;
when her blue stare in love’s embrace prevails
and she was aptly named
for in her light all darkness was banished
Yet now, in the growing gloom —
this slide to despairing madness —
seems irrevocable in the loss of her light
and the unending dusk of loss
deepening shadows without her candle
against the Cimmerian shade
I hold not defiance to this funereal realm
but wait instead in some lost dream
of the rise of her star again
though whence she comes I know not
O’er my tortured brow her light has gone
where once shone bright her radiance
now crepuscular dimness and moon’s lunacy reign
with no guiding torch I am lost in the blackness
of this atramentous sphere
I pray for the star of the morning
I pray to her in my words and thoughts and tears
I pray and entreat in unheard cries
for the return of the incandescence of her gaze
whither I now depart or abdicate
I cannot say; some unknown island or sea
unlit by her star and guidance
no rudder nor compass to advise
yet dreams still come of her blaze
through the desolate umbra – a beacon
of glory and the bittersweet remembrance
of warmth.
Star of morning I entreat thee
Star of morning I pray to thee
Star of morning I beseech thee
Star of morning I implore thee
Star of morning I love thee
Star of morning have mercy on me