Can of Worms

O Can of worms

So beautifully packed

Out there for the world to see

The beauty it lacked.

You’re so pretty

And Oh your shape

I dare not talk

And continue to gape.

I swallow and walk to you

Smile and talk you up

Gather the courage to look at you

And ask for coffee in a cup.

When Morning Comes

We talk into the night

We chuckle and we fight

And I hope you’ll know how much I love you

When Morning Comes

We go out, we drink and we drive

On the same jokes and pranks we thrive

And those things to talk about again and again

When Morning Comes

I know you’re there to tell me it’s alright

And that the light at the end of the tunnel is indeed bright

That it’s a new dawn, it’s a new day

When Morning Comes

And we have come a long way

There’s not much left to say

Just you, me, and the Comfortable Silence

When Morning Comes

And who says the world’s not big and bad

For all those moments that I’ve been really sad

I’ve always sought the warmth of your embrace

When Morning Comes

I’ve never really thought it through

But the mere thought of You

Brings the smile on my face each time

When Morning Comes

I look into your eyes and see

The paradise where I want to be

And I want to lose myself again in those brown seas

When Morning Comes

We are

We are slaves

Of our desires

Of our need

To be needed.

We are servants

Of the voice

Inside our heads

That makes us.

We are fools

And it’s paradise

Or maybe not

Would we know?

We are hopeful

Secretly even after

Our dearest dreams

Have been squashed.

And our gaze

Lingers another second

With bated breath

On the phone.

And we plead

Gently and wildly

For another reprieve

For another glimpse.

Knowing nothing good

Can come about

Close your eyes

For another bout.

My Place Under The Sun

Hither and thither the mind does run

On its quest to find a place under the sun.

Soak in the present, or wallow in the past

Perception and Memories abound, the expanse vast.

An uprising of emotion, quelled by rationale

The twinkle in her eyes; and words do fail.

My ambition takes flight, honey show me the money!

A heart-to-soul, a soul-to-heart, and all that baloney.

Work and Party, harder and hard – Who has the time?

The earthy breeze beckons, an early morning sublime.

Each step’s a struggle, and everyone a rat

A smile to a stranger, with a tip of my hat.

The laughter like a child’s, the frolic and the fun

Ah the glint of gold, my place under the sun!