We never said “goodbye”

Never wanting it to be the last time

Even in the final moments

We couldn’t say “goodbye”

Though in our hearts

We knew it was a lie.


Where Love Begins


The evening was brisk but her company and the conversation kept things warm.

There were too many beer bottles lying around to count. How many had we drank and how long had we been out here? I noticed the flame from the chimenea reflected off the bottles on the ground as well as her eyes.

She looked off into the distance and I startled her with my question.

”Where do you think love begins?” I asked.

“I think it begins with good company and a bottle of Jack,” she said in a teasing manner.

“I’m being serious,” I replied. “Does it begin with a kiss?”

“Oh come on, you know that’s how babies are made,“ she said mockingly.

”If that is the case, you must have a lot of children, because you sure have kissed a lot of toads,” I said, taking a gentle shot.

I knew she was quick on her feet and would come back with something of her own. She is very witty and I’ve always liked that about her.

”Hmm,” she said, taking a hit off her longneck. “Well I don’t have any children – at least that I know about.”

The comment made me laugh heartily – not only the comment itself but the fact that she remembered the Carol Leifer bit where it came from. My laugh made her break into a smile knowing she had gotten to me.

”Good to know!” I managed as a meek comeback in between laughs.

“Have you been in love before?” she asked with a serious tone in her voice.

I pondered the question a minute.

”I think that I thought I was in love, but perhaps was not actually in love,” I said. “I think I was maybe in love with the idea of being in love – or at least with the idea of what I wanted love to be.”

She sat silent and took another hit off the longneck but remained silent.

”Have you been in love before?” I asked.

”No,” she said flatly.

“No?” I asked somewhat surprised by her answer. I knew she had dated around a little and a few of the relationships were serious.

”No, I have never been in love,” she clarified sarcastically. “Did you expect a different answer?”

”I guess I did but I didn’t know why,” I noted.

”Hmm,” she pondered.

She turned and smiled at me and put her hand over mine. Her touch was cool from the night air but warmed up quickly on top of mine.

”What are you thinking about?” I asked her.

I could tell her mind was working cause she batted her eyes at me then looked back at the flame.

”I suppose neither of us are qualified to answer the question of “where love begins” then,” she said calmly.

With that, she wrapped her fingers between mine as we toasted her words with a “clang” of the longnecks and took a sip in unison.


You Know Nothing of the World


She laughed and told me I knew nothing of the world.

“You’re too young. You’ve got a lot to learn. White wine is all the rage cause it fills you up and is served with a chill. Little chickadees drink it up cause they think it gives them a thrill.”

She tossed her brown hair back and continued, “As for me, I drink red wine. It soothes the soul and makes me lose control. It makes me feel dangerous.”

She pulled me by the arm towards her.

“You look like the type of guy that knows how to make a girl feel pretty,” she laughed.

I pondered her words for a brief second as she kissed my forehead and sauntered away. Her hips swayed from side to side with each step – a sight always so mesmerizing.

”Pretty is a state of mind and built upon the false bravado of those ads in Teen Magazine. Your green eyes never deceive and speak in volumes of what pretty means. Your confidence is alluring and when you walk you own the streets,” I told her.

The words struck a chord and she cut a sudden smile like something had connected. She bit her lip and slightly stuck her tongue out. She always does this when she is pleased or amused.

“I see,” she said matter-of-factly while turning away.

“And what is that you see, my dear,” I retorted.

She turned with a wry smile breaking across her face – lighting the entire room up before my very eyes.

“Perhaps you are ready to even skip a grade,” she said demonstrating to me how “throw pillows” got their name.

#FieryVerse Challenge – Skylark

Buick Skylark

Easy days

Buick Skylark

Cruising the streets

Nothing to lose

Except in the back seat.

Poem written for the #fieryverse hastag prompted by @Fieryverse on Twitter using the word “Sklyark.”

I went a little different direction with the word. If you are on Twitter, I’d invite you to participate in the challenges as they are a lot of fun.


Red Wine

Red Wine

Red, red wine,

So dark and dirty,

How it clouds my mind,

Velvet strokes when we’re alone,

I’m not certain which is dirtier,

The wine,

The thoughts in my mind,

Or how you lick your lips,

When I squeeze you from behind.


Red, red wine,

How it flows,

When I hold you close,

All senses lost,

No self-control,

Empty bottle on the floor,

Same place as our clothes,

Ebbs and flows,

Between the sighs and moans.