Poetry

Paradox


The Smell of Love


Dreams, and You


The Beauty of Today

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The Beauty of Today

Today is a beautiful day To do something But Today is also a beautiful day To do nothing At all Today is a beautiful day To love with your whole heart But Today is also a beautiful day To love with your whole soul Today might just be the perfect day To start something new But today might also be the perfect day To continue something along Or even to end something That began on just as beautiful a day A long time ago Today can be the day For beginnings And middles And endings Today can be the day For something Or nothing But no matter what Today is a beautiful day
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Bubble Bath

She walks into the bathroom and turns on the water for the bathtub. She always has an issue with getting the temperature just right for a bath, but never a shower, so you, lying on your side on the bed listening to the glass door of the tub slide, know that she will not be as happy with the temperature of the water as she would like when she finally sinks into it. "Bubble bath?" you call into the bathroom. The door is slightly ajar, and the light is sloping into the dark bedroom. "Bubble bath!" she calls back. Her voice sounds muffled, and you think she may be taking off her shirt in this moment.  You have always been amused by the way her hair streams free from her t-shirt hole whenever she takes her t-shirt off. Naturally, her dresses, which simply drop from her curves and onto the floor, do not have this effect, but you cannot complain about dresses coming off, like a cover coming off and revealing a gift from a game show. And you know she is the best...
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Piano Man

       A man (or, perhaps, the man ) walked up to the dark brown door of the soon-to-be-again bar. The FOR SALE sign still sat in the inside of the corner of the tall, curtain-less window. Before opening the door, the man looked at the sign and contrasted the red color of the sign with his light blue wool suit. It was definitely daring for the man to wear a wool suit in the summer, as a seersucker would have been much more appropriate for such a humid, cloudless day.        Upon looking back at the door, before he could turn the knob, it twisted on its own in his hand, opened out toward him, and caused him to take a step back, his left Florsheim shoe almost, almost getting scuffed.        “John, you’re here,” said the man who opened the door. His hazel eyes shone in the summer light. “I saw you through the window. Did you see me?”        “Albert. I’m here,” replied John, now feeling the heat ins...
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