Found at the Foundling Door

                                                                                           

   On a day when there was no rain to dampen my thoughts,

   You were no more trouble than a pair of shiny dollars,

   Just waiting to be spent.

 

   We'd gather our smiles and slip around,

   Like a clutch of pups, undeterred by the troubles ahead.  

   You were young, needed everything, I had only ourselves.

                     

   Together we were a great invention of laughter.

    But now, the tears are too great.

    For our love will not survive the stares of the angry eyes.

 

    My mistake should not impede your happiness.

   I will hate myself, knowing that you were once mine.

   But I couldn't hold you and my youth all together.

 

   So I part with you here, where the foundlings have new possibilities.

   I will go with the rain, to leave you in bright sun shining.

   You will have a new mother, and an actual father.

 

   Tomorrow clouds of tears may gather.

   Carry my love with you both and a kiss on each cheek.

   No great currency, just change for a couple of shiny dollars.

 

The Widowed Bride

A tremendous act of kindness, by him brought love about Then sprawled beside a glassy pond their passions acted out A sunny day did rise and swell that perfect April morn 'Twas damp with chill, one wintry night a tiny lass was born Her papa was a strapping lad, who never shirked from chore Upon her mother's aching heart, they sent him off to war Their hearts were locked in mindless bliss, that Spring upon the heath Too soon their deed tore all apart, mid silence bound to keep With sturdy limbs, bright eyes of gray and hair of tousled curl Much interest in the child turned, who'd fathered such a girl? The letters came to cheer each day, upon the sheath, no mark But day by day each soldier's fall, revealed his beating heart Sublime the day the war had passed and soldiers all came home But not for those whose caissons rolled, her secret love be known For in first days with lists at post of lads who marched no more His name did cut the paper white, with ink her heart it tore Still letters made it to her eyes a mystery hand had sent As only one could even know from whence their passage rent And on a day as fair as most with child by her side She wed the deaf mute postman, who'd wooed the widowed bride

Starvation

Last night I went to bed hungry

Hungry for your touch
Starving for your smile
Gut rumbling emptiness

Emptiness that won’t be replaced
Like knowing that you won’t
Have solid food for... forever

Looking to the past for nourishment
Nourishment that is like a diet
And a hunger that is never fulfilled