When I behold my dream, her smile as radiant as a 
     near star warms me.
Darkness crawls to caves and cowers in the 
     shadows, as my dream appears.

When I hear the voice of my dream, the ocean 
     roars in my ears.
The wind whispers things I cannot repeat, as my 
     dream speaks

When I kiss my dream, no moment is more 
     treasured, or surreal.
Ripe cherries call out in chorus begging to color 
     and spread sweetness on her lips, before 
     our lips meet.

When my dream is with me, she is like a fantasy.
Our arms and thoughts embrace like honey and tea 
     blend to satisfy my abiding thirst.

My dream has a name, but I sing it only as a love 
     song to her waiting ear. 
In her eyes, I see the best of me and the goodness 
     of a lifetime.

When I call to my dream, her name summons a 
     beauty swiftly to the mist’s edge of repose.  
It is her that I see and recognize when my eyes 
     open to an angel resting in slumber.

When I reach out to touch my dream, it is a noble 
     heart that I find.

I reach out for a hand to guide me, and quickly find 
     our fingers entwined.  

My Dream has your name; she shares your smile; 
     and she has captured my heart.  
My dream is a fetching hunter and I am her happy 
     prey.
 

 
Still Smokin’ 

When you came into my life you had that look 
     about you.
You could have been black powder, or petroleum 
     vapors.
The result would have been the same. You were 
     explosive.
You seemed to look for an open flame to ignite you 
     into final purpose.
You were happy to work diligently in my kitchen.
There you generated your own kind of oven, 
     burner, and broiler heat.
You posted signs that were too near to read. 
They warned “Getting too close can result in deep 
     and lasting burns.”
And the last sign I remember was 
“I may not be young or hot, but I’m still Smokin’…” 

KABOOM!!!

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