The Romance Of A Record.

There is romance in a record store
Its the dusty smell and yellow faded covers, how you flip threw them causally, as a breeze in the afternoon on a hot Sunday.
We know we would never hang them up on the wall.
Hiding our secrets in book shelves behind psychedelic envelopes.
It’s not the way I gaze across the room, no it’s not the instant connection, or absently touching finger tips.
It’s underneath the vinyl, between grooves, read only by a stylus falling up and down across the frozen waves.
A stamp made in history by Edison, it’s stood, not of convenience or simplicity.
No this is where time and effort come in, for love doesn’t coast by, it’s whether your record will be placed upon my revolving platter, sending its vibrations down the path of metal wires to tone arm, and cartridge.
Will it form an electrical current creating that nostalgic scratchy sound bound to my heart?
Will it sing between our empty spaces filling up our silences?
A tale of souls wound together amongst vinyl.

If You Only Knew; An Unrequited Love Story

I’ve been staring into the depth of your eyes for 5 minutes.
I am sure you haven’t noticed, you continue your story about last weekend.
I am hanging onto the little things,
the smile when you see me across the room,
how you greet me and send me off with a hug.
Such sweet compliments mingling with my thoughts.
I am stuck between my feelings and your friendship.
How was I to know it would get so hard to carry a love unreturned.
I tug along this weight, watching a breeze slightly ruffle your hair and shirt.
I hold the ache and wish for your hand in mine.
You tell me how hard it is to be alone, how hard it is to wish for someone and not have it.
You said we couldn’t!
you said we shouldn’t!
You said it was not the right timing.
And I have stayed a faithful friend.
Always caring along the longing of what could have been.
Would you have been the embrace against my tears?
Would we chase God together?
Would we make each other grow?
Would our kisses be sweet like honey? Each one somehow more?
An overwhelming care, I grip this love unrequited.
When did you become so dear to me?
When did you burrow into the depths of my heart?
Why do my prayers begin and end with your name?
So you tell me of your weekend, and your plans.
And I listen, and I share.
My eyes screaming, will you ever see?

When My Mind Finds Itself To You.

When my mind finds itself to you
It wonders
At your profession, pastimes, passions, & pains.
Are you exceeding expectations and persisting when others would give up?
Did you pull out the cookbook last night and flip through the pages?
Did you watch a western or documentary off Netflix before falling asleep?
It wonders about when we finally meet.
Will you want to fill my empty spaces?
Are we going to celebrate monthly anniversary like middle schoolers?
Will you remember my favorite coffee order and bring it to me on a rough day at work?
It wonders about holidays & birthdays.
Do you have thanksgiving traditions to teach me and do you pray before the meal?
Will you kiss me under the mistletoe and chop down a Christmas tree?
Are you a fan of surprise parties and gifts wrapped up with a bow?
It wonders at your faith and leadership
Do you read the Word and share your thoughts with me?
Will you sing His praises at the top of your lungs in the forest by the stream?
Are we going to commit to community week after week after week?
Then my mind finds itself back to reality.

Picturing You

I picture you in the swivel chair beside me, at this hipster coffee bar,
and at the river wadding through the crystal clear water, giggling, splashing & laughing
and watching the sunset from our picnic blanket on the sanddune keeping each other warm,
and singing a sweet melody to our beautiful Savior, our hands together.

But, am I even in your picture?
Are you alone in the chair at the coffee shop?
Does the river’s water beckon you?
Do you ever go to the coast at twilight?
Is your song as sweet when its a solo?
A picture speaks a thousand words.

Would I Be Moved

Would I be moved if I thought the music
Danced at dusk between the pussywillow branches
Or whispered to the lily pads so the frogs forgot them
Was the echo across the canyons in the silence of the night
Or splash of the oar from a rowboat lost at sea
If it awoke vocal chords locked in pyramids?
Made the last grasshopper to put down its wings and go to bed
Or carried the moon upon its shoulders through the night

I wish upon interwoven fingers

For more time
More breathes of the same air
For more long nights fading to morning
No early beds and rises
More theatre seats without armrests
and more smoothies left unfinished
No half-assed lunches at work
More five hour flights and three days
No lonely driving on solemn backroads
And more listening to insects
and more British accents in container stores
No crying to sleep to melancholy tunes
More bookstore dating advice
and more rabbit trips to find an open Borders.
More sofa reading nights
and more beckoning me to you
And more time together.

X Doesn’t Mark My Heart

I left my heart halfway under the sand, and as the pacific rushed over it I ran east
Wishing upon a eyelash it would disappear
Placing roadblocks to distance myself
Making obstacles of rain, sleet, snow
Building up mountains from their base higher and higher
Allowing vines to overrun what used to guide the way
Shutting down power plants in the dark
Stacking rocks in obstructing towers
Mining every field
Never be found again, because its not the treasure chest on the map.
And no one fights that hard for my heart