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Archive for December, 2015

Words on Christmas

Christmastime, you have my heart.
Our Savior’s birth, we celebrate.
This cheerful feeling won’t depart.
For Your return, we cannot wait.

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Blue Eyes

Blue eyes, blue eyes.
They’ll be the breath in me.
Blue eyes, blue eyes.
They’ve come to set me free.

Will they be altering waves,
or peaceful water by the shore?
Will they make me want to pay
attention to the grace in store?

Two parts wild,
three parts calm.
Two parts mild,
three parts strong.

I’ll pursue that splendid ocean
with all the will I have inside.
I harbor no mixed-up emotions,
only love, deep and blue-eyed.

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Thoughts in Pairs

Will I get the chance to be
inside her heart, love’s company?

I don’t know why, but lately I
have thoughts in pairs, two stars aligned.

Commas separate our hope
as time does pass, but I will cope.

There’s so much that can’t be known,
and no human love is set in stone.

But all the same, I’ll try my best,
for life’s a shame when life’s the past.

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Still and Dirty Water

I looked at my reflection
in the still and dirty water.
Saw someone I didn’t know,
a man not meant to be a father.

The longer I stared, the less he shone,
and soon the grime had left its mark.
The more I’ve lived, the less I’ve smiled,
then over time, permanent dark.

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The Kind

Emerald skies, I’ve yet to see
such beauty pouring down on me.

It helps my heart to heal in full,
these actions you take for my soul.

Being fought for feels so nice,
rather than rolling fruitless dice.

Commitment seems a myth today,
only in selfishness we pray.

But not you, dear, I see it now,
the way light lives upon your brow.

The storm is over, the rain’s dried up,
so here’s to joy in every cup.

And if the sun has found a place,
may its warm lips caress your face.

We’re shivering, but the good kind,
the kind that says what’s lost we’ll find.

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Panic Button

He offered her high hopes,
though she could only offer fear.
When love’s against the ropes,
doubt’s one-two punch is near.

It didn’t take much to destroy
a foundation halfway gone.
Just a father’s hateful words
to kindle fire burning strong.

She shouldn’t have been forced
to make that choice so soon.
Her finger on the panic button,
alone inside a bustling room.

What’s done cannot be rescued.
Oh the wreckage, how it floats.
The end may have come anyway,
but perhaps without the ghosts…

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O Bow

Overpowered and bullied
by a claim of setting free.
Our love, torn and sullied
will recede as he decreed.

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