those early moments of recognition
knowing the path would clear 
excitement nervousness, go slow
weeks a month a year pass then touching
drawing closer both of us prepared yet
unprepared for the energy to come
it did and we let it happen 
open undisguised for all to see
to the surprise of friends “what?”
we went all the way travelling long miles
and loving long across the northern lands
in that perfect travelling van 
back on the farm planning building labor 
nails screws concrete backhoes pipe 

my first time for unconditional love
this I cherish and always will
it ended in a sad way yet parted as friends
for good logical sound reasons 
you moved to a better place in life
more than I could give, yet the love persists

I was blessed from those early moments
Eugene Oregon Saturday Market
the simple act of walking holding hands
two of us alone looking like we belonged together
the first indication of something between us
we were both married it went no further
several years passed our connection being
the pleasure of arguing, funny but oh so true
no attempt by either of us to go there
then fate intervened both our lives changed
the playing field freeing us to be together
we taught each other how to open wide
our hearts our minds our bodies our trust
I was blessed to be with you those four years
to be in the state of the grace of love
a love that carries me through the years


I put this in the closet - one I wrote a while back.
There is a back story here that goes back thirty-five years with maybe eight people. This came to me during another sleepless night several days ago. (last year actually) This poem is  true story of what I know to be the love of my life. She and her brother and another friend were visiting Eugene Oregon as we all were preparing for a move to a large piece of land in Northern Washington State with three others. 

We and I ended up walking through the market alone and our hands slipped together. I felt ecstatic in a way I hadn’t felt before, like “This is my woman”! Three years passed without no indication of anything between us other than she loved starting arguments with me. My marriage was in disarray as was hers, yet still nothing between us, we were not willing to have anything going on between us because of our respective families. We never spoke of this until years later. Then the accident. (my divorce was final six months previously and She had recently filed for divorce) She was the one writing me letters and making phone calls during the three plus months I was in the hospital. A year after the accident is when this poem begins.

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NOTE: All pages are in a constant flux updating altering & rethinking mode