Her Sleeve

Never will green eyes gaze 
Not ever may gentle hand brush
Upon and against
The certainly sacred, well-worn sleeve
The sleeping side
On humble knees in search of scars God allowed
God created 
god-created 

The Distance

How dare I
Stride in
With notions
Questions
Distractions to your plan

Why must you
Stand by
With indifference
Ambivalence
Lacking sense to seize me

Thus do I
Tip-toe away
With wondering
Thundering
Conquering this our plight

Cotton Calls

Would there be the same sounds

That pierce and too-perfectly calm

The closing of distance 

The decreasing proximity

The changing acoustics will call

Awaken!

And shall sing you to sleep, alike