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Morning Stars

I miss our morning stars,
in runs when you were mine,
when we first looked at Mars
in the darkness lit with time.

In blue eyes burnt a passion,
on kayaks in the sun.
When we first met, compassion
was easy, fed and fun.

I don't really understand.
and I may never know,
why a tender slender hand
did ever let mine go.

© Brenneman T. April 8, 2004

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A stronger dream than I,
fear filled her nighttime sky.

!n silence, sleep we try,
our quiet, soft good-bye.

© Brenneman T. April 8, 2004

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More the Thinker

Are not my purpose and destruction intertwined?
Why does the finger slip, pull down the tender vine?

My mind is more the thinker, than the thought.
My brain wants more to tinker, than be taught.

I feel love's broken bones along life's underbelly.
I may not bear her fruit, but will surely taste her jelly.


© Brenneman T. April 19, 2004

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