​today was the day.
we woke up early
(for a Saturday)
had muffins and coffee,
showered, shaved, packed, and prepped,
decided last minute what to wear,
and headed out the door.
purely by accident
we abandoned our masks,
but we did remember
the flowers, the boutonniere,
the cookies, and the rings.
the weather was perfect
and we stopped just long enough
to invite my parents to snap a photo
and shed a tear,
respecting the six feet
required to love our friends and family
during this otherwise complicated time.
the drive to Oregon Ridge was lovely.
we met Kate at just the right spot
and made our way to the altar we chose
right along the water;
turtles, frogs, fish, and ducks.
you in your stunning dress
me without a tux.
we chatted and broke the ice
waiting for the other family to go by.
when they were gone,
and it was just our officiant and us,
we picked our sides,
held one another’s hands,
and you laughed.
Kate asked if I needed to
“get (my) giggles out”
but you took responsibility,
owned your outburst,
and we got things underway.
“heart” you mouthed to me
our term of endearment.
“heart” I mouthed back.
“I love you” you whispered.
“I love you” I did the same.
the vows were read,
we exchanged our affirmations,
traded our rings,
then I got to kiss my wife.
nothing else I have done
has felt so real as that;
looking into your eyes
and promising ourselves to one another.
we stayed for a bit
unwinding from the seriousness.
made sure the paperwork was in order
then headed home.
to our home.
we packed our strawberries,
loaded the car,
watched Russell build a box and bag
to wrangle the cat,
then started the journey
on our mini-moon.
we texted, posted, and shared,
liked a lot of the love
that our people shared with us,
and found our way out to Cumberland.
since then we’ve unwound
said wife and husband
as many times as we could
and now its time to settle in
and love our new spouse.
today was the day.
we picked 8/8 the week we got engaged,
things have changed quite a bit since then,
but it doesn’t change the fact
that today is the day.
we’ll get the wedding we want next year,
but we got the marriage we wanted today.
today.

​your name said “Sarah Coffee”
in my phone for at least
six months.
at this stage I can’t recall
if that was because our first date
was at a Peet’s,
or because Coffee Meets Bagel,
or because you have the most beautiful
coffee colored skin tone.
regardless, you are my coffee.
you wake me up.
you put a pep in my step.
I look forward to you every day.
like coffee,
I never want to give you up.
 
when I changed your name in my phone
I was devastated.
I loved seeing “Sarah Coffee”
pop up on my screen.
 
when I proposed to you
I considered suggesting we change our name to “Coffee”
once we got married.
 
when I wake up in the morning,
and make coffee,
I set aside a cup and just enough for you.
 
when I think about you,
or see your face,
or hear your voice,
I fall in love with you again
and again
and I’m so grateful I got to put
“Sarah Coffee” in my phone
one November evening.
 
so glad I get to spend so many evenings, and mornings, and moments,
with my “Sarah Coffee.”
 
I make up a lot of nicknames for you.
pet names, playful names, stupid games,
awful songs, quirky rituals,
ruined moments.
all of them are my way of loving you
in a way no one else has before
and never will again.
 
unique love like ours
is the love of silliness,
of awkward finger guns,
of passionate tackles,
of a perfect blend of you and me.
 
my phone used to say “Sarah Coffee.”
soon it will say “Sarah Thompson.”
I can’t wait.

​I don’t think anyone would question it
if I told everyone I could be
occasionally “word picky.”
I write poetry;
that is proof enough.
there are several words,
or phrases,
that people and I disagree about.
“nice” is the first that comes to mind.
I’ve had a contentious view on it
for nearly two decades.
“excited” is another one,
though I don’t mind if other people are excited,
I just don’t like being accused of it.
for me, the word suggests I might miss something,
be too distracted with emotion to pay attention.
it’s a silly definition
that only I have made
with no common shared language to support it.
all of the “word pickiness” I have
is related to those feelings in some way.
I attach my own meaning,
for my own oft-unexpressed reasons,
and I stick to my pickiness
despite dictionaries or common sense.
I apologize in advance for all
the confusion this will cause.
my word choice
and, more often,
my response to other people’s word choice,
will start more than a few arguments.
there will be multiple nights
where I should be sleeping on the couch
out of penance for my faux pas.
just as long as you know
that I am equally picky about words
that some people view,
in my silly opinion,
as meaning more than they do to me.
“love” is one word I’ve opined about
steadfast in my belief it isn’t just romance,
it isn’t just anything.
conversely, I think it’s everything,
but that shouldn’t diminish it for you.
when I say “love,”
and you know I intend to love everything,
it doesn’t mean that the love I have for you isn’t special,
because it is,
and,
the reality is,
love may not be the right word for it
you may need me to create a brand-new word.
one I can dwell on and over analyze.
something “word picky” just for you.

Here’s The Thing About Life,
It Is A Miracle.
No Matter What You Believe,
Once We Get Past Your Particular Interpretation,
Of What The Word Miracle Means,
I Know That We Will Agree,
Life Is A Miracle.

It May Be Wrought With Pain,
Or Blessed With Beauty,
And Those May Be The Things,
That Imprint Themselves,
In The Miracle That Is Our Memory.
But Even The Moments That Come To Us Minute By Minute,
Day By Day,
Those Events We Take For Granted,
And Consider Insignificant,
Are So Deeply Poignant,
When It Comes Time To Reflect On The Effect,
The Miracle Of It All Has On Each Of Us.

Each Breath We Take,
Automatic As It May Seem,
So Far Removed From Conscious Thought As It May Be,
Is Due Only To A Series Of Perfect Events,
Provided By Places,
Their Plants,
And People Having Developed Alveoli Capable Of Taking Oxygen In,
And Letting That Fuel The Chambers Of Our Hearts,
Which Beat Only So That We Can Love One Another So Enthusiastically…
That We Lose Our Breath At The Site Of Those We Love The Most.

Life Is A Gift We Are Given,
One That Is So Much A Surprise,
That Even When It Is Unwrapped,
And A Mother Or Father,
Brother Or Sister,
Aunt Or Uncle,
Grandparent Or Friend,
Sees The Miracle Just Delivered To The World For The First Time…
It Is—And Will Continue To Be--
A Complete Mystery To All For All Of Time.
The Joy We Are Allowed To Experience,
At Joining In On The Life Of A Loved One,
Is A Miracle Of Its Own.
We Can Never Know How Long We Have To Share With One Another,
So We Just Do Whatever We Can,
To Make Those Moments Matter Most.

Our Flaws Are Our Miracles.
Our Talents.
Our Mistakes.
Our Redemptions.

There Is Nothing About Art, Science, Music, Sex, Nature, Love, Life Or Death,
That Is Not A Miracle To Be Celebrated.

We Are Imperfect Beings.
Living In An Imperfect World.
Making Imperfect Decisions.
Living Imperfect Lives.

That Life Exists At All Is A Miracle.
That We Can Acknowledge It.
That We Can Experience It.
That We Can Share It With One Another.

There Is Nothing I Am More Grateful For,
Than Having Been Able To Share This Miracle…
With You.

I sat down the other day,
To stitch words together,
Just for you.
"If I..." I called it,
Before crumbling it up,
And starting over anew.

The problem wasn't my fingers,
They easily found the page.
Nothing missing from my vocabulary,
It has remained the same.
The thing I couldn't conjure,
Which really is a shame,

Is that I know nothing about you,
Barely just your name.
It's not that you're not worth knowing,
I just haven't spent the time,
For reasons unknown,
I've left you alone,
And lingered lonely on my vine.

I think it may be a condition,
Of how we all condition our own lives,
We put on masks,
Get up on stage,
And fumble for our lines.

We listen for the Oohs and Ahhs,
Of the crowd,
For which we play.
We wait for the admonishments,
Or endorsements of our critics,
Listening intently to what they have to say.

We live our lives performing,
Dancing shadowless,
Under the lights.
All exposed,
Nowhere to hide,
Accepting our own lies.

But there is no stage,
There is no show,
The critics are just our friends,
Our coworkers, our families,
All of them strangers,
Watching us dance,
To a story we made up,
With drum beats only we can hear.

Hoping,
Always hoping,
That maybe someone, someday, somehow,
Will look past our pageantry,
And just dance with us.

I like girls who don't photograph well.

I enjoy developing an unjustified crush,
On a girl I've just met,
Simply because she smiled at me.

I desire nothing more,
Than falling in love,
After a chance encounter,
In a long line,
At a small store.

My fantasy,
Is to find a girl,
Who thinks she isn't good enough for me,
When really it's the other way around.

I want the kind of love that I see,
When an older couple dances with each other.

I need a woman who understands
That my eccentricities were designed by god,
Just for her,
So she shouldn't get angry,
When I do something odd.
Because, inevitably, I will.

I don't care about finding a girl who I can have great sex with,
What's important to me,
Is finding a woman I can raise a great family with.
Though, don't get me wrong,
The sex is important too.

I'd love to fall in love with a woman,
Whose idea of romance and love,
Is complex, rich, and passionate,
But is easily expressed,
By simply holding hands on a cold day.

I need a woman who will listen to me,
Support me,
And be kind to me...
But who will always call me on my BS,
And stick up for herself,
When she knows she's right.

I need a woman for tomorrow, for yesterday, for now, for life.
I need a woman forever,
Who'll be my soulmate,
My wife.

As I was being born,
I very nearly died.
From that moment on,
Nothing has been less complex.
The same event,
That wrapped the cord around my neck,
Not once, but twice,
Made me exceptional, unique, and impressive.
The rest of my life has followed suit,
Almost to a “T.”
For every tragedy,
Big or small,
(And many there have been,)
Something good, amazing, or inspiring,
Has swept in to replace it.
I know I’m not the person,
My parents expected me to be.
In the same vein,
I know that nothing I have expected,
Has turned out how I thought it might be.
And for me,
As is for my family,
I couldn’t be prouder,
Of how things turned out.
The expectations we have,
Or have set for us,
Limit us.
Only through grit and determination,
Can we succeed,
To exceed the expectations.
My grit,
My guts,
My passion, love, and lust,
Comes not from those with expectations,
It comes from,
And exists for,
The people who support me.
The ones I choose to support.
My family,
Having grown past what,
And who,
They thought I would be.
My friends,
Who know only what I choose to show them,
And, more importantly,
What I refuse to see in myself.
It’s these loved ones,
That have chosen me,
Despite my many flaws,
It’s these cherished few,
Whom I have chosen,
For reasons felt,
If not fully understood.
It is these people,
That I live for.
Not to impress.
Not to live up to expectations for.
But to grow with.
To share with.
To exist with.
The tragedy,
That has allowed me,
To cultivate the best people,
And the best things in those people,
Is that I find myself,
(Several poetic exceptions aside,)
Unable to properly share that love.
My life,
My wonderful, simple, happy life,
Has been so complicated by the racing thoughts,
Of my tireless mind,
That I can’t seem to reconcile,
How I feel,
With how I act.
Again,
That difficulty,
Is made simpler,
Through the gifts I have been given.
The voice I have learned to speak with.
The hands I have learned to write with.
The heart I have learned to feel with.
It is those gifts,
That no one could have expected me to have.
My family,
Who I could have never dreamed of being blessed with,
And my friends,
A greater group then I could have ever hoped to know,
It is those things,
That support and propel me onward,
That make every battle one worth fighting.
It is all of you,
That make my fears,
(Of which there are many,)
Challenges to be faced and conquered.
So I thank you.
I thank your lack of expectations.
I thank your support.
I thank your love.
 I thank you. 

Love,
Is a complex series,
Of switches,
All thrown to yes,
By a chemical release,
Our body pumps off,
As part of a flight or fight mechanism.
A flight that picks us up,
Off of our feet,
And sends us soaring into the clouds.
And a fight that makes us unstoppable,
Fearless warriors of chivalry,
Dedication,
And kindness.
Love is our body,
Saying to our brian,
Ignore what you know,
And just feel for a while.
Love is an anesthetic,
That blurs the line between,
Who hurt us last time,
And who,
(most likely)
Will be the person who will do it next.
It’s the greatest gift we’re ever given,
Until…
(of course)
It’s ripped away.
Or fades away.
Or until the disappointment sets in,
When the chemicals wear off,
And we come to slowly realize,
That what we thought we had…
(love)
Was really just a cocktail,
Of internal chemistry,
Prompting us to say,
No…
To SCREAM!
“Yes! I do!”
Then reality sets in.
And love is only a sporadic gift,
That shows up late at night,
Or during a romantic song,
On a beach during vacation.
The rest of the time it’s just choice.
Choice to say love,
When what you mean,
Is a little more like appreciate,
Tolerate,
Am amused by,
Inspired by.
It’s more like,
I care for you deeply.
That’s what my experience tells me.
Or,
Told me.
That was my definition of love.
Now it’s just my definition of romantic love.
Because real love,
Love that doesn’t snap in,
And burst out,
Feelings that don’t fade or change,
They don’t drift out to sea and back,
With the ebb and flow,
Of passionate tides.
Real love is reserved for family.
Real love is for your children.
Nieces,
Nephews,
Cousins.
For your mom and dad,
Good or bad.
Brother.
Sister.
Love.
The worthwhile kind.
Is family.
Not just blood,
Family can be chosen,
Adopted,
Inherited.
The goal,
I suppose,
Is for family to become everyone.
Each man our brother,
Each woman our sister,
Each child our child.
So that we form a family,
Built only on,
And only for,
Love.

LyrahGray,
I love you so,
Much more,
Than you will ever know.
You proved to me,
What love is,
Simply ‘cause,
You exist.
I’m not there now,
To watch you grow up,
But I will be there,
Sure enough,
When the times get going,
Or the times get tough.
You inspire me,
To be my best,
So I’ll work hard,
To never rest,
Until one day,
When I come home,
To show you what,
The world has grown,
In me,
For you,
And everyone else.
My mission,
Love,
Is to share with you,
The best,
The world has,
The best in me,
So you can choose,
Who you want to be,
And know that,
No matter what,
Sweetness you,
Are my first true love.

When I first met you,
I had no idea,
The impact you would have.

Your friendship is an ice cream cone,
That melts my heart,
And fills me with sugar and happiness.

You're the kind of person,
That people always say,
"The kind of person" about,
When what they're talking about,
Is good, great, or awesome.

When I feel my phone vibrate,
And find your name on my screen,
My face beams,
Like sunlight after a long Alaskan night.

Every hour I spend getting to know you,
Feels like a long summer day,
When we were 6 or 10,
And adventured for hours,
All day and all night,
Until we got called in by our moms,
For being out too long.

It's strange to be your friend,
And to feel so strong a bond,
When I haven't known you all that long.

But I won't fret it,
Or regret it,
Instead I'll just be thankful for the summer and the sunlight,
And the ice cream,
That makes me feel all-right.

THE DEPTH AND THE BREADTH,
OF MOST MEN THAT I’VE KNOWN,
THEIR CHARACTERS FLAWED,
THEIR ACCOMPLISHMENTS OWED,
SPEAK LITTLE TO NOTHING,
OF THE MEN I KNOW NOW.
MY BROTHERS, MY MENTORS, MY STUDENTS, MY FRIENDS,
THE SOULS THAT I TRUST TO ETERNITIES END,
THESE MEN,
THESE COURAGEOUS, WARRIOR, VAGABOND MEN,
INSPIRE AND PROVOKE ME,
JUST AS I DO FOR THEM.
ITS THAT PLEASURE AND THAT PAIN,
WHICH REMINDS US THIS IS TRUE,
IT’S THE LOVE WITHOUT FEAR,
THAT OUR HEARTS PUMP BLOOD THROUGH.
THE BOND OF OUR BROTHERHOOD,
IS NEITHER SACRED, NOR NEW,
THERE ARE NO PRIVATE RITUALS.
NO SECRET DANCE.
WE SIMPLY TALK.
AND COMMIT.
THEN FOLLOW THROUGH.
WE ARE THERE FOR EACH OTHER AND EVERYONE NEW,
AS MEN WE STRIVE TO EMBRACE THE THINGS WE RESPECT,
WE ENJOY WHAT LIFE OFFERS,
WE ACCEPT CONSTANT CHANGE,
WE DESIRE NOTHING MORE THAN TO STAND UP AND BE BRAVE.
MEN FIGHT,
AND MEN STRUGGLE,
‘CAUSE THAT’S WHAT THEY DO.
IT’S THE MEN,
THE REAL MEN,
THOSE WHO DON’T KNOW QUITE WHAT TO DO,
IT’S THOSE MEN THAT MAKE CHOICES.
THAT LEARN.
THAT GROW.
THAT CHANGE.
IT’S THOSE MEN I KNOW NOW,
THEIR CHARACTERS STILL FLAWED,
BUT THEIR PERSONALITIES GROWN,
IT’S THOSE COURAGEOUS, WARRIOR, VAGABOND MEN,
THAT I WOULD DIE FOR.
THAT I WOULD LIVE FOR.
WHOM I’LL TRUST TO THE END.
MY BROTHERS, MY CONFIDANTS, MY ADVISORS, MY FRIENDS.

Friendship is a choice.
Each phone call,
Every text message,
All of the minutes spent together,
Are the glue that keep friends together.
Love isn't a choice.
Family is a birthright.
It’s only friendship,
The tenuous weave of events and memories,
That bond us.
Friendship is strong,
But it is discardable.
It is merely a choice that keeps a friend, a friend.
At any moment,
Misbegotten or not,
The decision can be made,
To make a friend a thing of the past.
Once,
Long ago,
It was put to me,
As an assumed tie.
A relationship,
That only exists because it once existed.
That,
That simple thing,
Is what makes friendship so valuable.

I don't remember the first time I met you,
But I'll never forget the first time that we spoke.
I was spewing nonsense,
While you stood there like a doe.
I ran my words out,
You smiled kindly,
I made an awkward face,
You said something pithy,
And it put me in my place.
I tried to dodge a conversation,
But you engaged me in such a way,
That I paused, floundered, and pouted,
Before I stopped,
And stayed.
Your intelligence was mesmerizing,
My confidence a farce,
You were someone genuine,
I was genuinely someone else.
I remember it was a school day,
When you had your accident.
I heard about it,
My heart skipped,
That's how I knew I considered you my friend.
When I saw the bruises the seatbelt left,
Despite your fear,
I was relieved.
Because while it may have hurt and pained you,
It meant there was a lot more the two of us could do.
We had a lot of good times,
The learned and the nag,
Dancing hand in hand,
Strange conversations with one another's dad.
I had an inkling that you liked me,
Or at least that your grandma did.
Neither of us knew how to address it,
I guess 'cause we were kids.
You went away to school,
I occasionally came to visit.
By the time you were brave enough to ask me out,
I was too embittered.
That didn't distract us from our adventures,
Or from making other plans,
Though it did leave us guarded,
And that always made me sad.
Fortunately we powered through it,
Look where we are now,
Three thousand miles from where we met,
Collaborating on ideas for the net,
Improving lives,
Inspiring minds,
Being adults and taking time,
To sit and meet and talk and eat,
Or drink and cry and question why.
But why doesn't matter,
Neither does then.
Only now, today, this instant.
Because in this instant,
We are friends.

Always Being Cultivated
Scrutinized While it Grows

Pure Despite it’s Source
Abundant and Enjoyable

Taken With a Grain of Salt
It’s Future Surely Sealed

Enough for Nearly Everyone
Known Around the World

Used in Many, Many Forms
One Person to the Next

Discardable
Delicate

Misplaceable
Unforgettable
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
My Love is Like Rice

I feel the fear of falling fading fast away,
I embrace, instead, the thoughts in my head,
That inspire the best from me.
Each of those thoughts,
I have found,
Started, first, as thoughts of you.
And if I had not fallen so fast,
Those thoughts would be out of view.
These ideas I envision aren't altered memories from the past,
Nor are they just dreams yet unfulfilled,
But my fantasies, my future realities,
Are goals for me and you.
This thing,
This complex thing,
Which has so drastically changed my point of view,
It is the best of times,
Yes, just the best of times,
And it is so dangerously true.
I know, for you, there is a fear,
That my love is truth,
And that truth is a noose,
And that, that noose will hang you.
So I know why you wait unwilling to fall,
Just know, that when you do,
I’ll be there, waiting to share,
My truest love,
With you.

The Phone Rings,
You Smile,
That’s how I know its him.
Its almost as if,
Apple designed your phone,
To ring EXTRA hard,
Just to warn my heart,
To force my head,
To turn away.
It’s a shame I never do.
Not in time at least.
I always see,
That cheerful glee,
Sparkling in your blue/gray eyes.
Your voice raises,
At least an octave,
As soon as you say “hello.”
I don’t know what he says back to you,
That makes you giggle so happily,
I force myself to smile,
I immediately stand up,
Somewhere, I am sure,
There is a dish that needs to be done,
A sidewalk that needs sweeping,
Clothes that need to be laundered.
I busy myself,
However possible,
To avoid unintentional eavesdropping.
I wish I could say,
That I was jealous of him.
But, I can’t.
Reasonably,
I should surmise,
That I should be jealous,
That it’s not me,
Who evokes such happiness,
In you.
But, I don’t.
The truth of the matter,
Sincerely,
Is that I am jealous,
Of the way he loves you.
A way I have never,
Loved anyone.
Truth is,
How he makes you feel,
Makes me happy.
I hope I love,
One day,
The way he loves you.