By: Alan Berger

                                  There is a soft breeze coming from a place I use to be
                                  A sweet gust between the two of us
                                  A truce of sorts if you want to call it that
                                  A sort of cease fire still alive with the friendly fire
                                  Now just because we have not lived our union faithfully
                                  It does not mean that we can not grow old gracefully
                                  You are great to make up with though, and after the pounding
                                  After a million knockdown drag out fights, I stopped counting

                                 Just a winning breeze to make you lose sleep

                                  Just a cool breeze sailing over your seas
                                  A battleship and destroyer of emotion to cross your ocean 
                                  An armada of mayhem with an encore of here we go again 

                                  Even as we rip the seams
                                  A penny for your thoughts
                                  A million for your dreams

                                   I can’t breathe without you
                                   And with you, you take my breath away
                                   Then there is the appeasement
                                    When we give one another the silent treatments. 
                                    My only regret
                                    Being of keen mind and body that is sound
                                    Is the short time we have together
                                    I can certainly go some more rounds

Categories: Poetry

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