Pretty Pictures

Pretty Pictures
by: Jon` B. Crenshaw
　
Beauty; that lone face
luminous in a crowd
feel a timid glance of
a heartbeat in nervous dance

Stolen kisses
fire-lit by
two lovers embrace hello
goodnight/goodbye

Holding hands
private walks
secret oaths and
impassioned talks

A shy girl’s smiling eyes
squinting delight and
dreaming of moonlit rites
with the boy
in the mantled frame

Her anticipation
his first kiss
her inexperienced lips
tender hands and
sweetened quips
getting lost in the scene
pretty pictures of
a young girl’s dream*

Nana's Grace

Nana’s Grace
By: Jon` B. Crenshaw
　
There in the den
she slowly rocks
the eldest of our tree
matriarch of our family

Her wisdom hums volumes
life has given her much
so exquisitely generous
we all love Nana’s touch

A spirit of purest light
our doorway to the past
motherly lessons galore
when living moves too fast

And though her leaves have
withered a slight bit
her grace is still evident
we revel in the perfection of
Nana’s tender motherwit*

Haven

Haven
By: Jon` B. Crenshaw
　
She cradles her cheek
at the curve of his neck
feels him swallow silently and
breathes his sweet, minty sigh

Rapt in a breadth of contentment
reveling in mellow comforts
the richness of his man-ness
adoring their warm amore

She looks with longing into
heavy lidded brown/grey eyes
a warm smile tipping her lips as
she realizes that, magic exists
in his kiss… and there’s
music in their bliss*
　

A Veteran's Pay

A Veteran’s Pay
By: Jon` B. Crenshaw
　
It seems for some reason I
can’t retrace the steps that
were there yesterday, when we
laced our boots for the Corps

I can’t seem to find the footprints
there beyond, where we
marched the morbid treks
distances across nostalgia’s floor

In a slip of memory I’ve apparently
no tether to bind the images
perhaps lost to aging cycles
far deeper in nostalgic lore

Why can’t I remember
where last we marked, that
nether-path boldly taken
across that darkened corridor

a time we lived so long ago
on Iwo Jima’s sandy shore*