When it falls

When the snow blankets earth above our heads
when it is the edge of December
we wrap around a year
to receive another
without knowledge of what the days hide.

The ringer of the bells

"All Paris was spread out at his feet, with her thousand turrets, her undulating horizon, her river winding under the bridges, her stream of people flowing to and fro in the streets; with the cloud of smoke rising from her many chimneys; with her chain of crested roofs pressing in ever tightening coils round about Notre Dame. " Victor Hugo, Notre Dame de Paris. 

Notre-Dame's old bell calls me
around the end of the day I wait
to see Paris give me a sign

of a new beginning
but the story is the same with all graygoles
that they speak only the truth

there is no problem
to wander without finding a way
just assure you are not lost

I can feel him in my bones as I walk the stairs
where he swung rope to rope
the ringer of the bells

Quasimodo, the laid, bete
the ugly, the stupid,
the one who fell for a woman with a voice like crystal

with a tambourine and a smile
the ringer of the bells who announced the news
talked to the shadows until he even fell shadow of her heart

Quasimodo, my enemy, myself.

Friendly advice

Talk to him, you have the words
to make someone fall at your very feet
but use the words that do not mark expectations.

this is how you see her

A person too short on life.

I fear that you see me just like all of them

A woman, no different. 

these tears, dry

Where do these tears come from?
I thought I was dry
questioned the barren desert is cactus.

Celebration

The gifts are wrapped under the tree
bought with a love that will go unappreciated
for the lack of sight in the effects of your little words
on my skin, like daggers pulled out of the sheath
the day will open with your hand
touching my back for confirmation
you hold me just long enough
before we open the drinks up and  clink the glasses
in celebration of another year of life

calling to a new lover

I find your name,
like the flicker of an old tune playing
on the doors to where I stand without looking behind

I call your name
a little after the dark descends where I am not the same
a ball of blankets and lonesomeness

I call you, my lover
when you extend your arm toward me
wearing a smile, after a cigarette and keep talking

till the night ends