Shadow dancing

As the flame of my heart –

Has inspired this ambiance of you.
Thus memory moves gracefully along these walls,
in a silent ballet of my own lights longing.
Still I reach through this veil of our distant love illuminate
thus to take your hand in mine might that I be
the same silhouette dancing silently
behind the flame of your
- Heart

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Pheromone

As a bee is drawn –
To suckle the honey of its rose.
Then so I am compelled by the scent and sensuality
of your flora’s effeminacy to make a bed
with in its petals of ambiance as I am intoxicated by
your own orchids passionate
- Perfume.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

The ruins of pleasure

How gentle is the fall –

That we plummet from such great heights.
Still to land in one another’s
- Arms.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Passacaglia

As is the tempo of my heart –
A troubadour of wandering composition,
might it liken to the poetic affair of a street side serenade
it crescendos into an operatic obsession of ardor.
Thus the only acompanate that need be
is the duet of your own hearts
- Measure.

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Sway

As we were leaves -
Waltzing gently upon the whispering wind.
Cheek to cheek, heart to heart,
fingers entwined, our bodies locked lightly
within each others arms
as we rocked slowly to the sounds
- Of silence

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Clarity

Stepping through the veil –
That I may flirt with the twilight of my dreams,
‘tis where I find myself betwixt the “In” and the “Between”
Therefore the relativity to my lucidity
is purely the simplicity
- Of truth

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2008

Synchronicity

E’en as the fates spin their yarns of life
we are still only the threads of soul traveling along parallel lines.
Thus could we intertwine and transverse the boundaries
of our own dreams and predestinations
would that I place my self in the pathway of your heart,
that we might weave the tapestries
- of life and love

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006

Pearls

As these -
Are the moments of you.
Of which I have strung so carefully,
graciously, reverentially, remarkably, unforgettably
along the thin line of my mortality’s thread.
Thus as I gingerly caress these benevolent baubles of memory
I am in awe of how precious, how priceless,
how infinitely timeless a single grain of sand can be
when encompassed by the essence
- Of your soul

© Charles Coakley Simpson 2006