Sweet Whole Milk

  There is not just one thing
It just never appears dull here
Even the cat seems to glow
From drinking all their milk
With great vitality. 

The valley beyond
Falls especially so,
Low enough, but then
Having to catch a breath
Then coming back up
For more milk.

Climbing the mountain
It’s part of what I came here for
There he is before me,
Liquid, delicate, warming
Yet we are so complete
Our time of existence will not cease
We will not be remnants of what was to be.

Only a trace of him
With the crust left on it
And on the rim,
He sticks to the ribcage,
Under my skin,

How much more can I drink
From him; he fills me
He’s neither half nor skim
But sweet whole milk.

Walking The Cat

There is adventure in the journey 

Some of us are meant to be lead,

And others are born to follow. 
It’s where life can flow clockwise 

Sometimes veering intensely  

Love is revolution in every direction

That’s our destiny. 

Appearing as a obedient 

A slender rope-like,churning, 

Rotating around a nearly invisible, 

World; it’s just love like crazy

Swirling extending downward.

Touching as if pulling me 

From the ground.
Loving, longing, living

There are updraft and downdraft 
Storms subsiding finally 

We’re colliding sometimes too. 
Life is intensely exciting

Nearest to the balance,

Get to the center of street,

And pull it to the outside,

The way it’s supposed to be. 
Wherever he goes, I go

Simply, he’s a cat on a lead, and 

He doesn’t just walk with me 

He leads me too. 



He is everything and all things to me on this earth,

He carries our love with strength,

With a courage that does not expire,

Never exhausted from trivial things that matter not. 

My hope not to be a distraction, 

But to encourage his greatness. 

To be together by habit of being all; 

To be the many and adaptable; and inspired,

And to love him always in all things.

The Foxglove Flower


Wild vibrant pink foxglove flower
Why do you grow on the cliff top overlooking the Gower?

Sprouting up between rocks ruins Of unforgiving crags;
So uncompromising,
Seeking a foothold in every minute In crack and crevice.

What shadows circle over head…
Could there be fairies here?
Living there,
Searching for death
In the search for life?

My soul rides on the wings of these shadows,
It bleeds with echoing cries,
The thorns around you are many,
But you are not dulled by the rough shards.

My meager knowledge offers you little comfort,
Is that why you sit alone among the crags…
When you could dance in the sky
And among the white clouds
And laughing in your own brilliance.

Well, do not go on and hide
In your own little niche,
Struggling for each new crevice
In which to place your roots.

I will help you go on
Unrelenting, yet a little fragile,
Threatened by every breath of wind.

But you are the mountain flower that graces my sight,
I will marvel at your stong moss And be on the rocks with you.

So, if you choose to be on the rock,
Be strong and ever changing,
And I know you will perservere;
Even when you as you hold on
for life and while staring at death.

What can one do but live on the rocks?
When thoughts remain towards sky,
I am a dreamer
And a dreamer I will remain,
But always in love you.

Even with you against the weight of my heart,
Just like the foxglove flower, whom lives in the Gower.

For my best friend.  

I love you. 


When you Know

The feel of your soft skin

that look on your face,
warm and smooth, and heat.

Delicate satin, blushing
then becoming; and flushed.

The sensual texture underneath
the fingertips; all is hushed
except for soft breaths,
listening and breathing.

Pulses beating with dire urgency,
feeling its surgency
in the rhythm of each caress,
and with every tender touch

It’s when you just know. 

Dim Cariad Fwyaf (No Greater Love)

Originally posted on American Girl in Wales... the Texas Way:

They say that you can see more stars from here in Wales than from anywhere else in the world. And that there are more stars in the heavens here than all the grains of sand on this earth.

When I think about all the places we’ve been like Paris, Venice, Athens, Cyprus and Sri Lanka, my heart always wants to go back back to Swansea. It’s where my imagination wanders back to all the long stretches of white sand on the warm beaches; Rhosilli, Mumbles, Langland and to The Gower. These are the beaches we’ve walked together and come to love.

I am thankful for finding love again and for the days we have spent together and for all the ones there are to come; I sit here with feeling blessed for the love; your son and thinking of you on this Father’s Day.

I think about how grateful I…

View original 211 more words


“Do I love you because you’re beautiful, or are you beautiful because I love you?”

Am I making believe I see in you, a woman too perfect to be really true? 

Do I want you because you’re wonderful, or are you wonderful because I want you? 

Are you the sweet invention of a lover’s dream, or are you really as beautiful as you seem?”

– Oscar Hammerstein