Poem: Truth of a Kiss

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Truth of  a Kiss

I walk with you as the fog slips seductively in.
We stop at the water’s edge. We kiss
and my fingers trace the skin of your shoulders.
My fingertips savor your warmth.
“I am not a man of extremes.” I say.

“You lie.” you say.
And we kiss again.

Poem: Something More than Paper

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Something More than Paper

There is a chill in the air as you walk to the ocean.
Your feet crunch on stones and sticks.
Even here far from the shore,
the remnants of storms litter the path.

You feel her hand in yours.
You feel her presence, something more
than you expected. Perhaps more
than you deserve.

Neither of you are children.
You have lived and loved and lost.
You bear scars, tender and harsh,
deep as the bone. You understand

how life works, and how it doesn’t
and your rose colored glasses have fallen to the wayside
and shattered more times than you care to admit,
the path behind you pocked with broken glass.

But here you are. Improbable.
Improbable newlyweds, nearly a year past
the improbable wedding that tied the knot,
already bound to each other by something more

than paper and promises.
Her hand is in yours.
You lean into each other as you look to the next shoreline
and the horizon with its blue clouds and storms.

About this poem

The woman I love and I are coming up on our first anniversary. I debated titling the poem “Improbable Newlyweds”, but there’s been so much more to this first year than the giddiness of being in love, as nice as that is. “Something More than Paper” captured it better.

The picture was taken on Cape Cod.

Tom

Poem: Stronger than Vows

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Stronger than Vows

She stands at the edge of the water.
Her dark hair blows in the wind.
The ceremonies are done and
now she is more than the woman you love.

She is your wife.

How is it that beauty grows
when nothing has changed except a day
and the exchange of vows?
How is it that you feel less alone,
part of something larger than two souls?

It is enough to renew your belief in God.

Birds sing above the beach. Seagulls.
Not music, but music, counterpoint
to the rhythm of the waves.

You take her hand as the tide rises.
Let it come.
Together we are stronger than we deserve,
walking together on the beach.

This is what you remember,
more than music and ritual,
company or canapes, white dresses
and grey vests. All that is captured in pictures
and memories. The stuff of anniversaries
and smiles. You treasure them

almost, but not quite as much as this moment,
she and I on the beach, just us
and the wild blue horizon.

About this poem. 

I am married less than a year now. Unexpected and unsearched for, she brings joy into my life I never expected again. At times, it brings me to tears. The good kind.

The picture was taken on our honeymoon.

Tom

Poem: Luminosity 

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Luminosity 

When I was a child I dreamed of attics and cathedrals in the night.
cobwebs lit by a vague moonlight.
A haunting trumpet calls you to the altar,
to a rusted worn trunk in a distant corner.

Enchanted, enslaved by the wavering music,
I was drawn to those dark corners,
hair raised, fear palpable, a soul torn
between disquiet and desire.

I would wake, shaking, sure I had escaped
with my life.

The dream would not let me go.
that certainty of being the prey of something ancient,
the prey, yet still drawn as if survival would bring treasures untold.
All in the dark.

After you came, the dreams continued, these pastiches from childhood,
with one difference: Luminosity,
a golden candelabra, a certainty of light
surrounding you like a shield.

Still, I wake before opening the last trunk, before reaching to the altar.
I wake, but without the dread, that moment when I am certain
the dark spirits of the night are about to make me their own.
I wake now,

the treasure just out of reach,
your warmth next to me, soft and true,
the dream continued,
the treasure found.

About this poem.

I really did have that dream as a child, over and over.

Tom