A Pool of Simple Beauty © TJL, 2/12/96
Time it was my friend once; it seemed upon my side,
It called to me, and beckoned then, and threw its' arms out wide.
Willingly, I tagged along but somewhere tripped and fell;
I made mistakes innumerate, and didn't do so well.
But then, I stopped and paused awhile, and took time out to drink,
From a pool of simple beauty, that bade me stop and think.
And as I peered into that well, where only I could see,
I saw the source of all I am; your love, stare back at me.
A Single Box of Memories © TJL, 8/24/97
A single box of memories, laid carefully before;
A packet of old letters, a lock of hair, no more.
I touch each one, though gently, and still can smell the scent
Of the one who gave them to me; the one who came then went.
She came into my life one day, when all, I thought, was lost,
And made for me these memories, priced beyond all cost.
The letters and the lock of hair mean far more to me,
Than money, jewels, and finest food, nor antique rarity.
Her head upon my shoulder, her hand clasped tight to mine,
Her gentle voice, a whisper, her touch, a loving sign.
I look upon these tokens, though some might think them small,
As my most precious treasures, a warm and cozy shawl.
I haven't got the heart, you see, to toss the box away,
For it is all I have to tie me to her day by day.
So the box remains a sacred place, of gentle sweet reminders,
That carry love to where she is, wherever they may find her.
Destroy the box, or toss it out, or contents should I burn?
I haven't even thought the thought, in hopes she shall return.
Relationships, Like Puzzle Boxes © 5/1/94, TJL
Relationships, like puzzle boxes, sometimes do divide,
If one ignores the special keys that keep the pieces tied.
They fit together perfectly, and do not bind at all,
The box is simply beautiful, with not a single flaw.
Symmetrical and smooth, with neither blemish nor a scar,
With care and loving vigilance, it will remain unmarred.
So keep the box together, the pieces intertwined,
And every time you open it, new treasures you will find.
I Wonder © 1/1/98, TJL
Where are you right now, I wonder.
And have you thought of us today?
Did you remember that "I love you",
Was the last you heard me say?
Have you pictured us two together,
As we were at this time last year?
Can you still recall the cold outside,
And our warmth from being so near?
Do thoughts of us being together,
Ever cross your mind these days?
Do your thoughts still wander to mornings,
When your smile dimmed the morning sun's rays?
I can't help but hope in my heart,
Very deep where only I know,
Where I harbor those sacred memories,
That they warm up your heart with their glow.
Where Hope Resides © 9/98, TJL
It is no bed of roses, these days where hope resides;
The dragon merely dozes, so hope just shrinks & hides.
For fear of being burned alive, the hope can only wait;
Afraid that what it sees as truth, is naught but lies & bait.
Yet thru it all, where most would fall, the hope still seems to thrive;
For what the hope remembers is what keeps the hope alive.
Thus, hopes are made of memories; a rather sturdy stuff,
That takes a lot to make it rot, decay, & cry "Enough!"
Yet even mem'ries suffer, the ravages of time;
And die along with hopes attached, & dust to dust they fly.
So sometimes dreams are added, to make the brew more strong,
And bond the rest together; it's why hopes last so long.
Ahhh, hopes & dreams together; a mighty pair of foes,
That care not if the dragon sleeps, nor lacks the night's repose.
In the dragon's favor, that hope cannot escape;
Is hope deals in unlikelies; the dragon deals in fate.
So does hope spring eternal? Time alone decides;
It is no bed of roses, these days where hope resides.
Twilight's Last Gleaming © 10/98, TJL
When lightning strikes the pieces of a worn and weary soul,
And welds them all together, into a single whole,
The weight of all the world, it seems, is less than that of air,
And sight of all one's former dreams returns from disrepair.
From twisted wreckage rarely comes a thing of classic beauty,
Unless one focuses deep beyond some passing sense of duty,
And gives of self untiring care, unselfish kind attention,
And traffics not in lies, deceit, nor any base intention.
To try and build a faith again, and have it thus undaunted,
And give it to that single one who'll ne'er leave it unwanted,
Is right and true a thing to do as ever a man could try,
And the only kind of fireworks that don't burn out when they fly.
For even lightning fades to black when that first bright flash is through;
It only leaves the faintest glow which soon just fades from view.
But for the ones of us that long to see that shining last,
They'll spend the time it takes to do, no mind to hours asked.
In the end, the man will say, in very humble voice,
"How can one ask the worth of it? Love gives no other choice."
*Music courtesy of Barry Taylor