My Favorite Mistake

I love you too much,
I'm unable to let you go
And move on with life.

Call it cowardice or codependency
Or ineffective coping or anything else.
You're an addiction, my favorite mistake.

I wish I had my mother's courage
Or my father's reasoning; instead
I have my grandfathers' passions.

We're together forever, some
Days are better than others.
I know you love me.

I'm addicted to you, I need you,
Unable to let you go, but not to grow
For better or worse or more.

I love you so much and I
Keep coming back for more.
I just won't let you go - I refuse!

Little Pocket Notebook

Little pocket notebook,
Like Hemingway's or Kerouac's,
Masters of their craft
And all the others like them.

Poets and authors and
Thinkers and artists,
Philosophers and rebels and
All who would jot down a line or idea.

Little pocket notebook,
Journal or testament or diary,
Ledger or appointment keeper, maybe
Someone will go over someday.

Put away in boxes and upon shelves
Collecting dust and time.
Bulging with thoughts and dreams and works,
Polished or roughly scribbled line.

Treasures waiting to be discovered,
Secrets hidden away,
Pages waiting to be turned
Again by someone, someday.

Before I Was Born

Before I was born,
Indeed, before I was conceived;
When I was but a twinkle in my father's eye
And a sweetness in my mother's smile.
When I was perfect and one with
God and His universe and all,
Before my birth and the proverbial fall.
When I didn't want and didn't need,
Before the egg and the seed.
Bathed in light and warmth and
All that and more.
Perfect love and balance and
Peace and understanding,
Before I was born.

Dana's Elegance

Featherly silky graze against my chest and
Sweet tenderness which nursed my children.
Titillating pleasure for my own delights and
Delicate downy softness teasing my senses.

Creamy white mound of your breast
Reflecting the full moon's light or
Sun's rays dancing and bouncing off
The almond crowns of your nipples.

Unblemished glory of your womanhood
To dispatch me to my most gentle dreams.
Sunrise, cupped in the palm of my hand,
Softly bringing me my mornings.

How do I write about , oh,
How do I continue to describe,
To elaborate, to render justice to
Your details perfect and pure?

Can nirvana or heaven ever recreate
Such beauty as I now caress? Oh Dana,
Faultless masterpiece of the female form and
My consecrated splendor before me.