For You, I Will

Whether it's simple or quite a chore,
I'd like you to know that for you, it's never a bore.
I'd tan leather just to make you smile,
Or change the weather every once in a while.

Ever would I wish no harm upon a hair
Upon your head, or either use a scissor there.
And I hate to leave you alone, and I'd take you hither
If I could, and at the end of the day, I'd take you thither.

I find your company a delight, in fact a pleasure
And always what you say is a joy, a treasure.
Always to you, I'd like to be a giver
Of the joys of life (and I'd like you to be a liver).

Fate has a way to tell us each
About those things that life must teach.
How always, we do not pick how things will end
Responsible we are for those with whom we Spend.

A Pix' Named Blue

When the pixie dust, it fails to work,
Well, I bet you feel like the world's a jerk
And that you have nothing else to do
But to suffer through.

And all day long, you're singin' a song
About how the pixies just don't get along
And that if you were paying for a service,
You just might sue.

What can you do?
Please, don't be blue!

So you tried again in the early morning,
Hoping to avoid a reason for scorning
Every little person making
Pixie dust.

And all hope was lost when you hit the page
(And almost hit the wall in rage)
As it still hung there,
Loading rust.

And then you're through!
No status new.

But then, all of a sudden, in a bit of luck
You tried again, and it didn't suck.
Now you could fly
through pixie land.

And everything was fine as you went along,
Hoppin', and skippin', and singin' a song
About the time your pixie
Went and flew.

Be Not Lonely

Listen for my love and you will hear it.
Be not lonely, for I am near it.
I will be there to wipe away
Every tear, every day.

And I'll be there in the morn
To see you face, my life's adorn.
And I'll be there in the even-tide
To be your friend though the sun will hide.

If you miss you friends, you family too,
I'll work my hardest to be better for you.
And those times it seems too much to bear,
I'll carry you the distance with a wish and a prayer.

The sad truth is that I cannot be
There beside you always; I just am not free.
But every space moment I (the great and the few)
I will dedicate to spending with you.

Nocturne's Oil

The midnight oil burns as you toil
Through the night, you hope not to spoil
That pattern of sleep to whom you're loyal,
And have sweet dreams, regal and royal.

You work so hard, and then you're done.
What a relief! The long road you've run,
And now you're ready for ready to have some fun,
But first! Oh wait... sleepiness won.

As you slumber, I hope your dreams
Are better than the sounds you hear (it seems)
When you're away, and reality reams
And takes you away on its wild schemes.

But, all is good, you're now asleep,
And in your bed yourself to keep
Until you've slept yourself a heap
Of sleep, then arise with an abounding leap.

Return to my Dreams (Or Help Me Remember)

I really miss those times of sleep,
When memories of dreams to keep
Would grace my mind every night
And there would be no dark creatures to fight.

I was me, and waking, alone,
And the nearest to me was accessible by phone.
This is not the reason I long for those days,
But instead, there are factors worthy of praise.

The alarm, it seemed, was just as loud,
And though I alone, I was still stuck in a crowd.
What madness is this? How could I long
For days in which things were not quite as strong?

I guess I'm old fashioned, or maybe selfish,
Or perhaps it comes as from my allergy to shellfish.
Nevertheless, I'll have my greediness said:
I want you in my dreams as well as my bed.

For Every Season

There is a passage that says each day
Had a time for work and a time for play.
And when I think it in that way,
I'm reminded of my last Sunday.

The work, it was, as work usually is:
Some sweat from the brow, but done in a whiz.
And the play, it was over too soon,
But nevertheless, it was quite the boon.

Whether enjoying the glittering water with weeds
Or sitting on the porch spitting watermelon seeds,
Or vacuuming up the bounty of cat hair
(How they generate so much? I know neither why or where).

I enjoy my time when it is spent here
With you by my side. There is never a fear
That all the joys of life will end.
With you by my side, the bad seems pretend.

Adventuresome

A day of adventures, mostly,
Sits in my memory, somewhat ghostly.
I recall a perfect time
Spanning a distance rather fine.

A day, it was, as part of a whole
Used to rest and recuperate the soul.
But not the body, no that is quite
A totally different thing, to be right.

Many days, it's good to rest
So, with your problems, you can be abreast.
However, the weekends are not for sleeping in
(If it's not already, it should be a sin).

The adventures we face are the kind
That are the best ones to find.
And whenever we find an adventure true,
I'm glad to get to find it when I'm with you.

Happy Birthday

How's it that this day has come
Again, and it seems like only yesterday we
Partied like it was a birthday with
Presents (only, for me).

Your birthday's today, and I must say
Because you've worked so hard
I've decided that you deserve so much more than to
Receive simply a flimsy card.

That's not what makes a birthday fun, or
Having ice cream and cake.
Days like this come all too infrequently
And we don't need to waste it while we bake.

Your birthday is special, my love.
Amber, I hope your wishes come true.
My birthday wish was for something sweet for my Ambz.
Because that's what for me you do.

Every day I want you to know
Reasons why my love will grow.

Sugar

You're my sugar,
Even though it's not good
For my teeth, I thought I should mention
That I still would

Let you be my sugar,
'Cause you are the one
That deserves solely just that title.
Congrats, you won.

But if you got inside my teeth
And festered with bacteria,
I'd still love you every bit
And would still feel etherea'.

And I'd never go to the dentists
And let them use their drills.
I'd deal with my love cavities
With more sugar, and maybe alagesic pills.

At the Corner of Always and Forever

There is a place called Always,
And it's where I am with you.
Though we live on the border of it
(If the survey report is true).

The other town that we reside
Is quite a distance from Never.
I think our second too deserves a crown.
Its residents call it Forever.

Where Always meets Forever
Is where I'll always meet with you,
And forever we'll be together
As each day draws anew.

And we'll never go to Never,
And stay the heck away from End,
'Cause the places where we live
Have no room to be those places friend.

Where Always meets Forever,
Always through and through,
Forever, we're together:
You with me and me with you.

Mornings

When we rise in the early morning,
It's no time for grumpiness or scorning.
Rightfully so, it's a time to kiss and coo
And if it's cold, to draw next to you.

The screaming alarm, it's never ceasing
Wracking the nerves, and the mind creasing.
So, I turn it off after I rise
And wipe the sleep out from my eyes.

What is there to do after waking?
Kitchen cooking, frying, baking?
Or maybe time to take a bath,
Or in our sleepy minds, tells jokes and laugh.

We could sit on the porch and see the sun coming,
And in our minds hear the drum roll drumming.
With each new day, our bodies from the bed we lift
To experience the present (after all, it is a gift).

Omniurnal

The rhythm of circadian states
That you sleep when it's dark,
And when it's bright, you waits.

And if your clock starts to get off course,
You must readjust nightly!
Counting sheep, cows, horse!

You fall forward. You delay;
Getting less and less sleep
Each and every day.

In the end, you're nocturnal
Or so it seems to be.
If you're still feeling tired, you're really mock-turnal.

But no matter what type of -urnal you are,
If you're not getting sleep,
You'll not be able to go as far.

The Quest for Gold

An epic quest I undertake
Daily, just for you.
And in this epic quest I battle
Creatures, like dragons, basilisks and a grue.

I journey through our humble land
In search both high and small
Of something that you will find favor in
Or cause you in love to fall.

I found the gold today, and it
Was difficult to find.
And I hope you enjoy what I've brought back
(And I hope you'll be too kind).

Though, what is this? While I was gone
You used divining tricks
And found a cache of gold more bountiful
And you found it quick!

Time Not Enough

How many seconds are in a day?
Quite a bit, I'd have to say.
But one things for certain, and it's tough:
No matter how many seconds, there just aren't enough!

I could spend the whole day just staring at you
And when the sun descended, I'd probably feel blue.
But thankfully, I can turn on a light
And stare lovingly at you even through the night.

The time, it ticks, and at times it's a curse
With each little tock, it grows worse and worse,
As I have one less second with which to spend
With you until my very end.

We have a limited amount of time on this globe,
And I dread to flicker out like the wane of a strobe.
Though, I've found a way with the clock to best it!
Instead of spending time, I choose to invest it.

Makepeace

To those who hurt my wife:

There are some folks who will avoid problems
By simply walking away.
But when you are an active member in the problem,
That's just not the way.

You can't throw a punch, emotional or physical,
And then ask to bury the hatchet,
'Cause you've torn a perfectly good cloth,
And you expect time to simply patch it?

It's patched through the hard work of building up
And never tearing down.
And apologizing for what you've done,
And trying to fix a frown.

So, as a lesson in human misery,
Keep in mind the next day
That storming off in a huff
Is not an ideal method towards getting your way.

Sleepy Dreams

I know at times, you need your slumber,
And so I let you sleep.
And with those times, you come unencumbered,
And get the rest, so deep.

Tired, you may be, when sleeping fitful
And unable to catch a wink.
And you try to catch the dreams by the mitt-full,
And cannot even get a blink.

A dream catcher should keep out nightmarish
And only give you decent dreams,
And you'd probably even take the garish
And not worry about what the lack sleep seems.

In the morning, if you're tired, that's to be expected,
To say your previous evening was all tosses and turns.
Always consider: your sleep can be next-ed
And you can get your rest while the daylight churns.

The Ocean

I know that times the ocean's churning,
And you're stuck on a boat that's always burning.
With each day, you're slowly learning
That the ocean is a thing of spurning.
The waves they rock, the boat is turning
And all the while you're yearning
To with the land, you'll be returning.
Where? Well, you're not that discerning.
It's just that right now, it's concerning
That your trip will be adjourning.

A Perfect Cube

    "Grow old along with me!"
    Said the poet R. Browning.
I hope you don't mind that I borrowed his words.
    It matters not how
    Old we are now
As aging, well, it's really for the birds.

    So, what did Browning mean
    When he said, "The best [...] to be?"
He must have meant the future that we face
    For every day is grand
    When I hold yours in my hand.
That "to be" must be this present place.

    The best becomes the now
    Which shows us just how
With everything we've learned, we've found it's true
    That from the Earth to the sky above
    No matter the age, there's always love
(But, as is the way of time, you'll be older too).

How to Divide 100%

Ever outpouring do I make my heart,
But that's because I want to be like you.
I know it hurts when I deny myself,
But deny yourself you do too.

I think what we need is a balance,
Where I live a little more for me,
And you live a little more for you
And then, maybe we'll see

If 90% you is a good mix for me,
And 10% me is for you a good mix.
Maybe we can do some load balancing.
Maybe I only need 6.

But no matter how much of me I deny
For the sake of giving you your part,
You'll always have 110%
Of my lovin' heart.

Adventure

An adventure could be described best
As every day with you, for the rest
Of my life, and maybe then some.
Adventure keeps calling like the beat of a drum.

No matter if the leaves have lost their sheen,
Turning grey where once was green,
I know that ever on we'll be
Continually adventuring.

We may not be exploring the exotic jungle
Or investigating the latest presidential bungle.
But how many times have we
Outrun a hurricane (and had no damage, to see)?

My mind is made up, and there's no turning back
(And if we did, we'd probably get attacked
By those adventure-avoiding nagging doubts
That keep us from enjoying life with some shouts).

Happy or Sad

Whether you're happy as a clam,
Or sad as an oyster without a pearl,
I'll alway be there to laugh when you laugh
Or wipe away the tears from my girl.

And on those days you're feeling glum,
I know just what to do:
I'll turn you upside-down so that frown
Becomes a smile, through.

Or if your life is missing something
Like, excitement or a book,
I'll take you wherever you need to go
Without a second look.

Your life, I'd like to fill,
With all manner of joys and delights
So that no matter when in the day,
You're glad, monings, evenings, and nights.

The Anchor

Life has a funny way of letting you know
When things are just right.
And no matter which way the gale winds blow,
There's no need to fight.

You have an anchor, so you can let yourself drift
Though the windy sky
And never worry if the chain has a rift
Or that you'll blow away or crash and die.

When you're securely fastened to the Earth,
You're more free to be yourself
And live your life of merriment and mirth
Deriving as much from your life's wealth.

You anchor me as much as I anchor you,
And at times, I'm far flying.
But I'm always connected, tethered to you,
And if I said I was lonely, I'd be lying.

Sunburn!

When spending time out in the sun,
You must remember that it's not all that fun
When you decided to end your outside turn,
And return to discover bad sunburn.

It stings, it aches, it's shiny and red,
And if you weren't strong, you'd wish you were dead.
You can put on lotion, and that helps a bit.
But what you'd prefer is a sunburn kit.

Aloe will soothe all the while it cools,
And wearing sunscreen helps if you're lounging by pools.
But there aren't words enough to describe how it feels,
Especially when it starts to peel.

Sunburn is a product of spending too much time
Outside with the right about of protection in mind.
But at the end of the day, if I'm red, white, or blue,
I'm glad to have gotten sunburn with you.

A Great Distance

There is a great distance
Between happy and sad.
A great sojourn it is betwixt
Sullen and glad.

How long is this distance
Ever so great?
Is it longer than the night
When it is called "late"?

The difference may seem small,
But small things are at the core of chaos.
A butterfly flaps his wings in France,
And under water, Louisiana's lost.

But this small and great thing
We have known for a while:
That the distance between happy and sad
Is simply put: a smile.

The Place That Makes Sense

This place makes sense,
Behind this door.
It makes me never want to leave
Anymore.

Sometimes I feel
That we're the only ones in plain
Sight that aren't entirely crazy,
And instead are rather sane.

The world, it seems, likes to try
To nickel and dime you every day
But why do that when you can treat your customer right
And give them a product for which they'd gladly pay?

You and I are riding on the back
Of a very large dinosaur,
And it feels that we're the only ones who realize
That from riding on it too long, our bottoms are getting soar.

So, let's get off at this stop,
The place looks cozy enough.
Let's call it home and make it ours (a kingdom of sane folk).
And when the dinosaur swings by again, let's just stay off.

A Case of Sundays

Hard workers may avoid Monday like the plague
"The Monday Epidemic," it's said across the front of the page,
But I supose that to me, Monday's another day
And with that another dollar (or so) is added to my pay.

But Monday marks a very sad time for me,
"I got a case of the Mondays," they say frivolously.
I'd say, instead, if you asked me in the place of,
That I've been cured from my Sundays, no longer with a case of.

'Cause on Sunday, for it may be a day of rest,
I consider it a day of best.
After all, wouldn't you
If you had Sundays like I did too?

But come the evening, the sun retires
And the houses nearby light with electric fires.
I look at her and I know it's true,
"My Sunday's gone, but I still have you."

Perfect Day (revisited)

And then the perfect days
Find ways to make themselves known.
Or at least the perfect days
Have ways to make it shown

That perfect days don't always happen
Every twenty four hours
Or only in April, with the rain storms snappin'
Down before the spring of Maia's flowers.

Bona Dies, they say, used to describe such a time
When everything as it seems
It going just fine
And in the end, true is made of dreams.

And a perfect day is spent with you
Beside me, each hour is spent
That when we're together, just us two,
I wonder where the good day went.

In'Dependence Day

What's the fourth of July but just another day.
Back in 1776, they signed some papers,
But since then, there's been significant change,
And the government is doing all these expensive capers.

So what is the day of independence?
Just about every country seems to have one
Except countries that already had it,
Or don't have it yet, or are done.

It's more a day to spend with those
Whom you love and cherish,
And be thankful that you're free of sadness
And be thankful they don't perish.

Even if I'm not going to a park
And elbow wrestling hicks to get a view
Of some loud explosions in the sky,
At least I still have you.

Perfect Days

When a holiday falls on a weekend day,
Then you get either Friday or Monday off.
If it's a Saturday, then it's a Friday.
If it's a Sunday, then it's a Monday.

Or something like that.

But every day that's off, is really on,
And as I drift through this river, called life,
I realize that when it's on, it on.
And when it's off, it's still on.

A torrent.

At the end of the day, you can rest your head on a pillow,
And mutter, through sleep soaked words that
You never knew there could be a perfect day.
And maybe that's right. Maybe there isn't.

But, maybe some days are closer than others.

Half Day

I love a half-day
As much as a cat hates a bath-day.
Because I get to come home EARLY
And not have to wait for the clock to finish its whirly-whirly.

But when I get to come home today
I know that it's you whom I get to see, and that's just great.
And then what? Three days of weekend?
It's something I'll never every wish to seek-end.

Holidays used to be called holy days,
And when we're spending them together, they become holy moley days.
It's one of those things that you'd wish would last forever,
And would have an abrupt end at never.

When it's time to return to the world, as is,
I'll look back on this time we had in remiss,
'Cause what we had was three whole days
And that's reason alone to give up some praise.

What is...?

What is candy, but something sweet?
And is it food that you'd like to eat?
Or would you rather have some meat?
I'll pick it up; I don't mind that feat.

What is chicken, but something fowl?
If you use too much ketchup, will you need a towel?
Or if you're having shish kebabs, will you need a little dowel?
And if you want truffles, will you need a trowel?

What is a sandwich, but bread and filling?
The bread comes from grain that has gone through the milling.
And fixings in abundance, over-spilling
Go in the mouth and lap of the sandwich-eating-willing.

What is an Amber. Could it be a stone?
Or maybe it's old sap from a tree Mesozone?
But when it's capitalized, it's not something you can own,
But someone whom you love, and will never be alone.