i have no desire to leave my home
i have no wish to go
the waves crashing here are as beautiful as those on any distant shore
the light at the horizon at midnight
invites a stormy future
and i sit in the cold and stare
this small bay within a bay
that harbors more mysteries in its depths than on all the earth above
home home
she sang the word today and i cried
home home
this quiet graceful life

we drove on

we drove on

the sunset chasing us

into the night

not looking back

and thinking we'd won

the sun smiled

at our silliness

of running

because she knew

the faster we ran into the moon

the sooner she would catch us

laughing

with open eyes

the laugh of immortally beautiful moments

atlas

Atlas

has grown tired

and

longing to rest 

in his bed of stardust

put his weight down

gently laying it

in a cradle of disillusioned dreams

frames

"are you an athlete?"

"yes."

"i thought so. you have that athletic glow."

i stared at her scrubs: light blue with unintentionally jaundiced ducks. chosen, no doubt, with compassion to force a glimmer into her patients' lives. kind eyes. overly eager, but kind.

it's funny

my body

my frame

is strong

the architect used Doric pillars to shape me

to support me

to hold me

simple and strong

to hold the weight of Botticelli curves

but 

where once those Doric pillars stood sound and sure

now lie delicate and beautiful rubble

like the Parthenon

lovely and breathtaking and decayed

their structural integrity compromised by time

funny

because those pillars have withstood 

battles

centuries

history

love

and civilizations 

they are strong

still

despite it all

their beauty still evident

still singing the songs of the past