I remember you, singing by the window

I remember you, singing by the window,
the spring sun filtering through your hair,
Casting golden halos,
a goddess unaware.
Melodies rose like daffodils, swaying, soft and light,
Echoing through the silent halls of morning’s tender might.

You wove notes into the breezes, stitching song to day,
Each verse, a petal falling, in the early hours of May.
Your voice, a magpie’s wingspan, wide and full of grace,
Dancing across the currents, in the indecisive space.

Outside, the world was stirring, buds whispered to bloom,
Inside, I felt the winter’s grip, finally, melting in the room.
How could such simple singing unsettle my old, gray skies?
Your tunes were keys to seasons, unlocking sun’s delicate rise.

Now in my heart, lingers every note you ever spun,
A lasting spring, undimmed by time, forever, brightly run.

Aligned

That night in the car,
on our first date,
I knew the life I’d have with you.

I could not see it, think or spell it,
But know, that I felt it.

The road unwound beneath us, a ribbon through the dark,
And time itself seemed to pause, aligning with our spark.

The city lights, a distant blur,
our world, right here, confined,
To the dreams we’d yet to find.

We spoke of trivial things at first,
But even then, I felt the pull,
For in your voice, there was a tune,
that called to my own spirit.

The future was a mystery unclaimed,
But on that night, within your smile,
my heart was truly named.

We’ve traveled far from that first night,
through trials, tears, and laughter,
Yet, that moment in the car,
foretells the ever after.

For though I could not see it,
think it, or predict it,
That night, beneath the stars,
our lives were interdicted.

Here’s to all the unseen roads, whatever we come through,
And to the night it all began when I found home in you.

Twilight Ink

Her lips, a twilight’s ink, brushstrokes on a canvas kissed by the night.

Whispers are woven into this smooth romance,
where silence becomes a visual trance.

Eyes, celestial orbs reflecting dreams,
A surrealistic journey through moonlit streams.

Midnight’s sonnet, cosmic ballet, defying the linear, the mundane fray.

Silhouette, an abstraction against space,
Shadows converse, tangled in the embrace.
A chiaroscuro of secrets, and an enciphered script,
where the commonplace loses its grip.

Moonlight, a spectral ink bleeding on alabaster skin.

Phantom verses etched on the tableau of the night,
A surreptitious language, a clandestine delight.

Experimental echoes,
a symphony beneath the breath,
In her embrace, I found eternal life,
escaping the clasp of death.

What is this love

A fist, clenched with fervor,
holding dreams and fears,
a grip on the heartstrings,
that resonates through years.

A knife, sharp and cutting,
through the veil of night,
leaving scars and whispers,
as passion takes flight.

A storm, unrestrained,
with lightning for eyes,
tearing down walls,
where weakness lies.

A flame, that is dancing,
in caverns of souls,
consuming all processes,
making spirits whole.

A symphony, harmonious,
playing the chords of delight,
orchestrating feelings,
in the tenderest of light.

A war, waged within,
against shadows that loom,
defending the fortress,
in the quiet of the room.

Is it like a phoenix?
Or, is it like a dove?
From ashes, we rise,
with white wings of love.