Eyes - A Poem to my wife Regina

It has been said that eyes are windows to the soul.
Eyes like yours are beautiful stained glass windows
to the cathedral that is your soul.

The story of our love is played out along that
stained glass pane that compliments your visage.
It is the story of love, happiness, sorrow and triumph.

The cathedral of your soul is home to the breath of heaven.

You held God and the Angels breathless when you were born.

Our story hangs upon the lips of everyone whom has ever
fallen in love at one time or another.

It is the tune everyone hears when they walk home from
their first date with their true love destiny.

It is the first smell of summer jasmine during the lovers
midnight stroll.

A Mother's Birthday

I sit beside the fire and think
Of all that I have seen.
Of meadow flowers and butterflies
In summers that have been.

Of yellow leaves and gossamer
In autumns that there were
With morning mist and silver sun
And wind upon my hair.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of how the world will be
When winter comes without a spring
That I shall ever see.

For still there are so many things
That I have never seen
In every wood in every spring
There is a different kind of green.

I sit beside the fire and think
Of people long ago,
And people who will see a world
That I shall never know.

But all the while I sit and think
Of times there were before
I listen for returning feet,
and voices at the door.