He looks at her

like my dog looks at steak.

He smiles at her,

delighted to be in her presence!

His jaw, resting on his hand, is firm.

his smile is lopsided, a little goofy.

“I only have eyes for you” is the clear message

he sends.

His eyes are riveted on

her lips,

her eyes,

her face.

He listens to every word she says,

with no distractions.

“I understand,” he says,

as he leans forward,

eager to hear more.

He’s not lecturing,

or explaining,

or teaching,

or telling her anything.

He’s just enjoying her company.

Clearly, they’re not married.

This poem (above) was written at a Cracker Barrel in Murfreesboro, TN. Somehow I am able to write in the midst of all the hustle and bustle of a busy restaurant, whereas my very quiet office is the best place for editing and re-writing.


She glances too quickly

towards the door

as it opens –

Sitting at her table,

eating breakfast.

Then she raises her cup

 to her lips

to hide their trembling.

She knows he won’t come

Yet she hopes…

Eating together in public

is too public

and can’t be done.

Loving together

in private

is too private

And shouldn’t be done.

(Why does restaurant coffee

always taste bitter?

Or is it only this way

at the cheaper hotels?)

It seems to her

that breakfast

shouldn’t be eaten alone.

Even steak and biscuits

don’t substitute for


A waittress friend told me that everyone who comes in brings a story with them, and some are more easy to read than others…


I watch the fire go from new logs,

with flames spitting blue and yellow,

to the dull red and gold of pulsating embers.

Someone stirs the new logs,

repositioning them for maximum burn,

and the flames perform a lively dance!

I watch, mesmerized…

Later, as the fire dies down,

and burning bits of wood drop into the ashes,

I watch the constant irregularity of it,

and I am fascinated.

And now I am watching as the embers glow less brightly,

still pulsating,

still full of fire,

their impact diminished only by Time.

Long ago, someone came

and moved me

so that I

could burn properly.

Then, you came,

not so long ago,

and stirred me

so that flames leaped up, like so –

And bits of fire,

filled with the hotness of desire,

fell down into the ashes

of my first love…

And now I pulsate

and I glow,

remembering the fire

and the desire

that you both showed me.

This was written on a very cold, windy, snowy day when I ventured into a Cracker Barrel store to get warm and full. Their fireplace added a dimension of nostalgia and resulted in this poem, which I love…