LIVING FOR TWO, LIVING FOR YOU

LIVING FOR TWO, LIVING FOR YOU

I promised you I’d call you, when I got safely home,
And then forgot your number, that was my first mistake.
And then a little thing called 4-1-1 never seeped into my brain,
Which seems to be getting smaller by the day, more stupid and inane.

Then happily I went to bed, secure in my repose,
Only to be awakened by a pounding on the door.
I peeped through the peep hole and saw your face
And promptly though, oh, oh-
Was there something I forgot to do,
that prompted this late rendezvous?

When I was a single man, I knew or thought nobody cared,
And I could be reckless with my life as often as I dared.
Now that I’m a married man with a ring upon my hand,
My life’s been changed by a love so true,
Living for two and living for you.

Once I gladly told myself when my mom was gone,
It was the end of me,
No more calls of raw concern, no reason left for me to be.
Now I find to my surprise, the same concern in your tender eyes.
Now I find were I to die, there’s someone who would cry and miss me.
Now I know when I get home, there’s someone there to gently kiss me.
And wash away the stench of a day that has left me cold and blue.
Someone to have, someone to hold, living for two and living for you.

So I promise now to always call when I say I’m going to,
To get my hair cut regularly and preferably by you.
Never again to take for granted the love you send my way
And to hold you close in thought and act until my dying day.
To trample through the meadow green and sail the ocean blue,
Your hand in mine, a fine vintage wine, living for two, living for you.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2008
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

WHEN I LOVED YOU

WHEN I LOVED YOU
(THE OLD MAN REMEMBERS)

Life meant the most somehow,
When I loved you.
When passion flowed like some moonlit fountain
Beside the Eiffel Tower
Or in the shadow of Big Ben.

When we were young and twirled in the sky
And took long walks at midnight beside the London Eye
And shone as bright as pure spun gold.

When you loved me and that love did flow,
Healing like a blessed savior.

Togetherness was ours to savor,
Like caviar or a sweet Sangria.
Sitting on the sofa,
Meryl Streep in Mama Mia.

And all our best laid plans,
The tender heart of my tender man
Lit the future like the glow of an Olympic torch.
The frolicking at Mardi Gras, the mischief on the porch.

Life rose and took its bow and basked in its ovation
And you became my hero, my strength and my salvation.
You found me and you held me and something stirred within my soul.

And at last I was complete and whole,
At long last I was free,
In those sacred golden years
When I loved you and you loved me.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

HOUSE OF MANY ROOMS

HOUSE OF MANY ROOMS

Can I be the one to cry upon your shoulder,
When the tidal wave crashes and the mermaids are all dead?

Will you be the one to untie all the ropes,
To loosen the noose that’s fastened to my head?

It is all change and circumstance, the mystery, the illusion,
And I need a sweet infusion to lift the shroud of my confusion.

And will you be the one I can bleed my colors into,
Every black and every white and every shade of gray?

Will you be the boatman, will you drive the chariot,
That races to the sunset of another fruitless day?

Can I be the one to undress you slowly in the moonlight,
Can I be the one to bring light to your window?

Can I be the one to drape myself all over you,
A desperate flag at half mast, quiet and subdued?

Can you be the clown for me, can you be my saint?
Can you be my Indian brave covered in his war paint?
Can you be the image of a picture perfect day,
A human rose in handsome clothes, dressed in fine array.

Can I cry upon your shoulder
when the mermaids are resting at peace in their tombs?

Will you be my knight in armor, shining house of many rooms?

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2009
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

THE MAN I DREAMED

THE MAN I DREAMED
(FOR KYLE)

The man I dreamed was everything, an ethereal fog,
Slippery and ill-defined,
A throwback to an age long past, a relic from another time.

Never dreamed the man for me would drive a sea blue Acura
Or a shining silver Scion.

Never dreamed the man for me could send my spirit flying.

The man I dreamed was everything, a shadow, not a face,
A most erotic specter, a wet dream lost in space.

Never dreamed the man for me would know the name of every cheese,
Would be so fond of cutting hair, so predisposed to vacuuming.
Never dreamed the man for me could chain my heart so tenderly.

The man I dreamed was everything, a toss of a coin,
An item on a questionnaire,
A list of non-negotiables, a game of truth or dare.

Never dreamed the man for me would decline to touch a door knob,
Would be so fond of chicken tenders, so tolerant of slobs.
Never dreamed the man for me, could drive me helpless to my knees.

The man I dreamed was everything, a riddle unanswered
Of unknown personality,
An enigma from another time, a vision in my psyche.

Never dreamed that one day Fate would hunker down and do the work
Of fleshing out a lover fair, complete with foibles and with quirks.

The man I dreamed was everything, wrapped in gay ribbons
Of silver and blue.
The Scion, the Acura, the cheeses, the quirks,
The cherished companion, the lover so true.

The man I dreamed was everything, the man I dreamed was you.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2007
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

CLEAR WATER

CLEAR WATER

So good to feel your clear water,
Lapping lazily over me.

Such a treat to rest my hand
With tender feeling on your knee.

So precious do I find these moments,
Hiding soft in your embrace.

Time stands still in the windowsill,
Framed in the fold of your kindly face.

So golden as a waking dream
is my reward in loving you.

So holy, like a sermon preached
that echoes through and through.

So stunning is the vista,
So breathtaking the view,

The stain-glassed windows to your soul,
Your eyes a sparkling blue.

So good to feel your aura,
That enwraps me like an afghan,
A comforter, a lovely rug,
Solid ground on which to stand.

So kind that you should spend the time
To conjure words of healing,
And bend to kiss my desert lips,
Chapped and cracked and peeling.

So fine to know your sunshine,
In these downcast days of rain.
A verse that chimes in perfect time,
A toe-tapping refrain.

So good to feel your clear water,
Lapping lazily over me,
A sparkling spring, a bubbling brook,
The promise of eternity.

-Bruce Potts
Copyright 2007
ALL RIGHTS RESERVED