New Dreams

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I remember weeping when you told me your dream of having hair again,

looking at old photographs telling the story

but now it’s Christmas, My Love

and the beauty of the season

is still healing us.

As the grief dissipates

we can dream new dreams

as as we embrace the future

nose to nose,

smiling, walking within the lights

as we hold each others hand.

    

Note: I share this as a matter of personal experience, of how love sees us through the difficult times, not out of any sense of self pity.

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies 

The Mystery of You

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When we are talking, and I look at your hair,

the mystery deepens.

How can the world be in

a few strands, of black and grey,

with a little bit of brown?

How can one set of eyes, hold

so many answers, give so many clues,

so that the world makes sense?

I wonder,

how can skin be so soft,

so intoxicating,

so exhilarating, when I hold you?

Listening to you breathe,

hearing your heart,

50+ years, and still holding the fire,

still climbing mountains,

still conquering galaxies,

how do you do it?

May I always be worthy,

of your love.

 

Note: Originally posted April 15, 2015

Poetry and Image © Copyright 2018, ancient skies