INDISPENSABLE

INDISPENSABLE

(FOR KYLE, ON OUR
14th ANNIVERSARY)

In this desperate age of love,
Fidelity out of fashion,
When partners change and rearrange,
When they claim they've lost the passion.
When love is tossed aside,
Dented and denied,
When marriage vows mean nothing
But grains of shifting sand.
It is then I come to realize I'm quite the lucky man.

In this day of thriving lawsuits,
Where love's reduced to money and things,
Life's random odd pursuits.
When everything it has its price,
When everything's compensable.
When employers love to tell you
You are far from indispensable.
A number on a pay scale,
It's good to know that the truest of loves,
Is never up for sale.

Untold harm is done by lovers,
Who care much more for a quick cheap thrill
And a romp beneath the covers.
When sex is all we care to see,
And not true intimacy.
We toss our partner on the trash heap,
Along with the vows we pledged to keep.

I'm glad I've a man who understands
That life is not a one night stand,
That forever means a lifetime,
Of walking hand in hand.

I shake my head in wild dismay,
At so many couples gone astray,
Love so easily thrown away,
Lives in utter disarray.

And yes, we all live longer now,
And yes, there are exceptions,
Yet there is still so much of love,
That can be saved and salvaged,
By a shift in our perceptions.
So let me raise a glass and toast,
The few role models standing,
For those who've overcome the most,
Through patient understanding.
Who know now how to overcome,
Life's desperate slings and arrows,
Who cling to each other all the more,
As the road begins to narrow.

It is fourteen years I've been with you,
Through the good and through the bad.
I cannot bear to even think,
It sometimes make me scared and sad,
To imagine a future without you there,
Your funny face, your words of care.
To leave would be a silly move.
As if I had some grudge to prove.
An unjust reward for someone so sweet,
That God has laid right at my feet.
You are my sun, you are my moon.
It would be quite indefensible,
For you are as the air I breathe.
Fresh and indispensable.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

MEDITATION

MEDITATION

In the early morning hours,
Cross-legged and hungry for truth,
Having thrown away tomorrow
In the bloom of misspent youth.

What is there left to the motionless man,
But to sit in the twilight and harmonize with birds,
To see the sun rise o'er the mountains,
A picture worth a thousand words.

In the early morning hours,
Sometimes I am grateful,
For the Parkinson's that slowed me down,
And for the dew that glistens.
For the blessings that fall all around,
To the man who sits and listens.

Clearing the mind of its daily clutter
With a poem or meditation,
That God sends down like manna,
A useful recreation.

What is there left to enjoy in life,
When one starts to tumble and fall,
Beyond the help of science,
The darkness of it all.

Clearing the mind of errant thoughts,
A slate wiped clean of fears and faults,
A free pass for a brand new day,
Hustle and bustle all for naught.

Especially sweet on a day for lovers,
When you can curl beside me,
Sex a meditation too,
When you come and gently ride me.

What is there left for the motionless man,
Than to cling so tight to a lover's skin,
And pass the day most lovingly,
In the grip of original sin.

In the early morning hours.
Alone and lifted out of trouble,
The future still a blank check,
i float in this peaceful bubble.

I find it enough to just be alive
Alone in the sunrise, lifted out of time.
I find myself surprisingly, softly wishing,
For another day on this spinning ball,
Prayers to the God I know who's listening,
A million thank you's for it all.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2015
ALL RIGHTS RESRVED