This is Love

Paint me a picture my love,
of love, and life... and hope

So that I might look at it,
and remember all that is right with the world
in my mind's eye
as we sleep

Paint me a picture...

of a moonlit sky and a long long stretch of beach...
with soggy sand paving a serene pathway,
to nowhere

Let there be stars...
the kind that fill the sky as far as the eye can see...
and a soft spot to lie beneath them,
with silence and still breath

A sunrise, fresh at the break of day,
with the dark cloak of night still slipping away
and upon the horizon, mountain peaks
to fill my eyes with suspense,
for the coming light
as not to see it, just any moment too early
I want to know it's coming... and wait

A spot nearest a humble little pond
that takes my breath
glassy, and glistening with a kiss from the morning sun...
warm, on my back... as I write,
and the day begins anew

A thunderous rainstorm.
and a dry place to watch,
and listen to the power of nature
and then...the glorious smell of spring, and new life
once the clouds have passed

The warmth of a fire,
and the glow of the flame
to warm our faces on a cold, quiet night--
the crackle of smoldering wood as the blaze takes it's last and final bow
in the otherwise still, eerie silence of the great outdoors

A trail of wildflowers,
a forest thick with the tallest trees in the world
that remind me, I am small... and insignificant, and humbled,
as I breath deep
an air that's fresh, and fragrant, and green

A choir, of children
their faces all aglow,
exuding a sense of hope, and a quiet power
a reverence for all that is good and pure in the world
and sinks my heart, with humility, and peace
sung in any language on earth

A valiant friend, who defends my honor
if he even on this day, is the last to stand,
in my name,
out of respect
to remind me that all I need, is one.

A fall afternoon,
a brisk, cool day
leaves that drift aimlessly to the ground
and the sound of them crunching beneath our feet
as we walk, slowly, to...
no place in particular, at all

A road not too long... between us
to see you, every day,
but long enough to miss you as I leave,
and on the way...
so that you look at me each time... and truly see me,
as if you grew hungry for my sight

A letter, of words... from your heart
that I can read again, and again
and savor in my soul as I would the last drink,
of water... that would ever touch my lips

This is love.
This is love, and life and hope...
to me.

Can you paint this, for me... my love?
And I shall look at it each day...
When I feel that my cup is full, and runneth over... with blessings,
or empty, and sad... that I have used the very last drop
to live.

I will see it,
and remember all that is right with the world.
I will not feel fragile,
but filled up... with the gravity of your presence
and the fullness of your love.

I imagine it now,
and I love it so...
I have cleared just the spot for such a painting...
in my soul.