What He Does To Me

Every time he says my name I feel blessed; blessed to have someone say my name with so much honesty and meaning. My name is so much more than a name to him, in those two syllables he tells me that he truly sees me and accepts me for who I really am while the strength and power in his voice says that I belong to him and I am his alone.

My heart skips a beat with every passing glance.  A brush of the hand takes my breath away and only his kiss breathes life back into me.  When his eyes meet mine I can see who I really am along with who I will become and my heart fills with a love I have never before experienced.

When he opens his arms to me he is inviting me to come home and when he pulls me close I willingly surrender, feeling his love, his strength, his confidence and his passion. In his arms I am able to see him, all that he ever was, all that he is, and all he will ever be... I am home.

One Dark and Cool Night

It was late when she dropped him off at his house. It was getting cold, the sun was gone, and the moon was offering only a faint light.  This had been a special night although if you would ask her why she would be at a loss for an adequate explanation. She caught herself pondering if that may be the reason this night was so special, because there was no one discernible thing that made this night so unique. 

He looked at her to say 'goodnight', a mischievous smile crossing his lips, his eyes bright even in the darkness and made little hesitation to open the car door and walk away. Almost shocked at his readiness to leave her company she heard her voice call out his name before she had a chance to stop it and he quickly turned facing her. By now he had his white fedora casually placed on his head and low towards his brow and a cigarette dangled casually from his lips. She caught herself staring at his silhouette in the night and became transfixed on that cigarette. Never before had she found cigarette smoking in any way sexy but this unlit cigarette clinging to his lips had her mind wandering as she imagined what it would be like to take that cigarette from his mouth...

"Yes?" was all he said as he leaned low into the car window on the opposite side of where she was sitting. She was almost startled as she found herself wishing for a camera just to capture this perfect image framed by her car window. Stammering for an appropriate explanation for calling out his name she blurted out the truth, "I just wanted to look at you once more..." It occurred to her that the awkwardness of the moment, even if it was only in her imagination, had forced her to hold her breath and speaking the truth was the only way she would be able to breathe again; she felt a short sense of relief until she realized he had yet to respond.  He laughed gently as he repeated his earlier 'goodnight' and lit his cigarette as he walked towards his front door. She sat there watching the cigarette burn in the dark and the smoke glide across his body as he got closer to the light of his front porch. He turned and tipped his hat to her as he went inside and despite her embarrassment she told herself that she would never be sorry she watched him walk in the moonlight that one cool and dark Autumn night.

Tea Time With Crickets

Sora__Tea_Time_With_Jiminy_by_nikko2nick

The picture was too amusing not to share.  I believe nothing I say about it can improve upon it but only detract so I'll let you just enjoy it... I'll wait...

Ok, to the matter at hand, I have a request but need to explain why first.

I had to download a "White Noise" app on my phone, long story and not the point so I'll skip it.  One of the sounds you can choose to put you to sleep is the sounds of crickets.  I layed awake for a brief while thinking about how frustrating the sound of one cricket can be but the sound of a collection of them sweeps me back to cool nights by a campfire or sleeping at a cabin by a creek in the woods by where I grew up.  I am content and I drift off feeling as carefree as I did in those moments.

This begs the question, why do we hate that ONE cricket that we can't find or just won't die?  Is it because a collection of crickets sounds like a symphony but one is just obnoxious?  Or is it because we just can't put our finger on it but there's something a little "off" with that cricket and that must be why he was exiled from all his buddy crickets?  Or maybe, deep down we're worried this is our own personal Jiminy Cricket and we want to squash that son of b*tch as soon as possible!

I think someone should write a song about this.  I think that would be neat.  Maybe Disney would buy it.