Waiting for the cold

He is standing at the foot of the stairs
waiting for her to finish her preparations,
the inevitable abundance of grooming
that precedes an evening out in public.
Her disdain for his longing
has left him folded into himself,
filled with angst and anticipation
of yet another rejection.
The harsh truth tumbling through his mind
is the realization there is no grace left in their union,
just a cold and distant companionship.
No love can be found here now, he thinks,
wondering if, truly, there ever had been love,
or if he had been deluded
by the passion of their couplings
into thinking the emotions overwhelming him
were love, not simply a biological excitement.
The ferocity of their love making long gone,
and frequency a thing of the distant past,
he is left with only her beauty
and benevolent disregard.
The inward focus of his vision clears
when she suddenly appears
fresh, beautiful as always
and floats down the stairway
like a cold winter wind.

Author's Note: Another "jigsaw" poem from words given to me by my brother-in-law Dale Smith. The words are: here, now, love, disdain, angst, anticipation, longing, abundance, grace, vision

The Fiber of a Father

The following was given to me by my daughter Megan for Father's Day. Aside from being kind, thoughtful, caring and beautiful she is also a very talented and artistic young woman. The depth of her imagery always takes my breath away. Even as a little girl of about 7 years she once said "it hurts like when a butterfly loses the powder off its wings and dies!" Wow, eh!? So here is her gift of prose to me for Father' Day 2011:

The Fiber of a Father

The sweet hum of your words brush against my newborn cheeks. A flurry of dandelion seeds flowing from your breath. They gently drift down surrounding me in a lullaby of cotton. Your soothing hum patiently spinning the cotton into song. A playful thread I keep clenched tightly in my protecting hands as I curiously stumble forward further and further into the unknown. Unsure of what lies ahead, I steal the occasional glance over my shoulder to see your encouraging smile reassuring me from the other end of the line. With an approving squeeze of the thread you send a hug shivering its way down, loosening my apprehensive grip. I push forward wishing for a brief moment that I might feel even the slightest tug reeling me back to the shelter and wisdom of your words. Yet there is no resistance, the thread slacks just enough to press forward another step. Pausing, I shake my wish off my mind, meanwhile twisting the thread around and around, watching it slowly twist into a braided pattern, subconsciously re-tracing my steps. Familiarities draw me back, weaving the thread thicker, as it becomes an intricate braid of memories. I inch closer to a realization I wasn't sure of - the gap between us closing in. I can sense your anticipation radiating from you, and begin picking up the suddenly heavy folds of the braid that now resembles more of a blanket. I wrap it around me like a comforter as I take the last few steps into your arms.

The sweet hum of your words tuck in around me as I drift into dreams, knowing that you were always with me, the fabric of my existence woven into my blanket's embrace.