The Lighthouse Keeper
The fog rolls in across the jagged reef,
To hide the jagged edges of the shore.
The world is drowned in grey and sudden grief,
And I can’t hear the music anymore.
But then your love begins its steady sweep,
A rhythmic pulse of light across the foam;
A promise that the soul is yours to keep,
A beacon that will guide the traveler home.
I do not fear the rising of the tide,
Or hidden rocks that lie beneath the spray;
For I have seen the way you step inside
The darkest storm to turn the night to day.
Let every vessel drift upon the sea,
Your constant light is all the map I need.
The Library of Us
If every day we’ve shared were but a page,
In volumes bound with leather and with gold,
They’d speak of every joy and every age,
A story that could never all be told.
There are chapters written in the pouring rain,
And verses composed in the summer heat;
A lexicon of pleasure and of pain,
That makes the heavy narrative complete.
I find a hidden meaning in your look,
A footnote in the way you hold my hand;
We are the authors of a living book,
That only two of us can understand.
And when the final ink begins to dry,
Our story will be written in the sky.
The Winter Orchard
The boughs are bare against the iron sky,
The fruit has fallen to the frozen ground.
The summer birds have long since said goodbye,
And left a world of white and hollow sound.
But in the secret wood beneath the snow,
The sap is rising in a quiet dream;
A hidden warmth that only lovers know,
Like fire running underneath the stream.
Our love is not a creature of the sun,
That withers when the autumn turns to cold;
It is a work that’s only just begun,
A silver truth that never will grow old.
Though winter claims the meadow and the tree,
The heart remains a flowering sanctuary.
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