Love Hue

Enchanted at the last few
frozen moments of 2008,
I flash back to one Christmas eve
before and the stirring smiles that
Christine and Emmett
gave us with the salt on
the lips of their margaritta
glasses
at a restaurant.
I am now locking in a New Year's
resolution,
alive in my mind.
Can I live to love you even more,
so that I see you in my
written words?
Crazy illusions crowd me,
hastily hiding what I want to
write most.
Yes, the mountain I must move
is eight miles high.
It shapes the figures of my
lassitudes,
edging me on to see just what
the stuff you are made of is
all about.
It is all about the game of power.
Tell me I will fail,
it would be easy.
Yet, I have suffered enough
to know that
I can withstand jealous fantasies.

I feast my eyes on the
consequences of that resolution.
Say it can come true,
maker of the gods.
Allow me time.
It will come to pass that I
write more effectively,
if I search your soul
to value your company and
grow old with you.
I may now skirt the bad luck and scream
frantically at you with elation,
knowing you have always been one step
ahead of a day in spring,
waiting for nothing more that my
watery eyes to get passionate
and cry in pain about it all.