Childish pride often drew me from this jungle oasis:
The ferns stretching to a sun they could never really feel;
a brash tapestry of coleii and violets trapped
in rusty, leaking, cages; endless winter wildfires of dried
oak and acacia your father and I chopped in '75.

The Brothers Blue: Jake and Elwood, floating
sleepily on the shaggy green and aqua sea; Ancil regally
protecting us all from his stealthy sun-drenched perch
as he surveys his expansive feline domain--His minions
passing before him in honor, displaying proper
respect, frequently invading a nap, scaring us all
as he would fall from the ledge.

Your smile, brighter than any Christmas, would greet my
return and never failed to replenish the fleeting hope
of my uncertain youthful soul, as you stood
glowing with a silent pride of your own.

Soft, subtle security always defined this room,
as did your pale blue eyes, much older than your years;
that whispered the unspoken love
that your hugs proclaimed out loud.

Summers of slow-cooked chili and winter’s of raw cookie dough
would fill my growing form, as your wide-open arms
and kind, patient grace would fill my even hungrier heart.

The soothing springtime sun now caresses
my aging form and thoughts of your bright smiling face
fuel my aching heart on the quick, lonely drive
through the valley of those forgotten years
to celebrate another birthday reunion without you.

Fresh green grass softens my step,
your Azaleas quietly bloom,
their, noses upturned at my gift of their
dark red long-stemmed cousins.

I've come home again to see you,
desperately needing your love,
and belatedly bringing you mine.
 I sit eagerly pouring out my hopes
and dreams once again with you
silently listening, perhaps even
calmly thinking of how I have
grown in the twelve months
since we last were together.

Hard metallic silence is now
your sole reply as I sit and cry
within these echoing marble walls
now called your home,
needing a hug
that you now can not give.